All I Want For Christmas
by Ravenclaw992
Summary: "My agreements are always honored, Ruby. And I never lose a bet." Three days before Christmas, Ruby makes a bet with Mr. Gold in which he must somehow get Emma to willingly give him a gift for Christmas, by any means necessary. Golden Swan.
1. The Bet

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time; ABC does. I also do not own the characters of Emma and Gold—they are wonderfully portrayed by Jennifer Morrison and Robert Carlyle respectfully. **_

_**A/N: Since it's nearing the holidays, I had the urge to do something Christmassy and fun for Once. So, I came up with this little fic. It's just a light, fun story and I hope everyone enjoys it. Takes place after the 7th ep, but before "Desperate Souls." Happy holidays! **_

_**All I Want For Christmas**_

Usually a quiet little town, Storybrooke came alive during the holidays. An enchanting layer of magic staked its claim, nearly erasing the misery and ruin the curse had enacted. Nearly.

The nuns did their spirited caroling outside, raising charity for poor, desperate souls. The snow had fallen, glittering in patches over the streets and windows. Christmas lights glowed from the diner's window, blinking red and green. A wreath decorated the door and even Ruby wore a satin red ribbon in her hair that jingled with silver bells as she flitted around filling orders.

The light-hearted Mary Margaret Blanchard, clad in a modest white dress embroidered in green trim, was satisfied with a cinnamon-sprinkled hot cocoa and hid a secret smile as she peered over the rim at David a few tables away. Archie Hopper and Henry were submersed in theories about the boy's fantastical stories over chocolate chip pancakes and glasses of egg nog.

Oh, yes, everyone's spirits were quite filled with comfort and joy. _And more than half of them owe me money by the end of the week, _Mr. Gold mused as he limped through the diner's entrance.

The little golden bell above announced his formidable presence and almost immediately the roaring chatter decreased to a dull murmur. Mr. Gold matched the flickering gaze of every person he passed. As expected, each pair conveniently lowered to the ground. _Honestly, you'd think I was Ebenezer Scrooge's long-lost twin. _

The moment he settled onto an empty stool—with few people flanking his sides—Ruby popped up behind the bar with a cup of coffee in hand. The wisps of steam curled into the air, heating his face.

"Decaf, cream, one sugar. Got it," she recited proudly off the top of her head.

The curse didn't allow for deviation enough. Ruby knew every person's order like the back of her paw; er, hand. Mr. Gold dipped his head gratefully, placing a bill on the counter. Ruby snatched it up instantly, as if he were planning on ripping her off.

"That'll be all, dearie," he advised tersely as she lingered before him, waiting. Usually she didn't do that—she was all too happy most mornings to leave him to his demons. "And just a reminder: the rent is due—"

"Due this week, Friday, December 24, Christmas Eve, eight o'clock sharp, 20:00 hours military time. No exceptions, even if we're lying on our deathbeds," Ruby finished for him smartly. Mr. Gold stared back at her, unimpressed.

"No exceptions," he repeated in a snake-like hiss.

He brought the coffee to his lips and took a generous sip. At least Ruby made an exquisite brew, he'd give her that. And she was still standing here. Practically bobbing in place and clicking her red nails on the bar. Each fingernail was decorated with blue snowflakes. Cute.

"Is there a problem?" Did she defile his coffee again?

"Would this be a bad time to try to convince you to lower the rent for the holidays?" Ruby clasped her hands under her chin and her ebony eyes widened with hope. Any moment now and she'd be batting her extra-long eyelashes. Gold gestured his coffee cup in her direction.

"You're a clever girl. What do you suppose my answer will be?"

"Yes, because I've been working long hours this month and it hurts your heart to see me suffer?" Judging from the darkening seriousness clouding Gold's expression, that was completely the wrong answer. Ruby gave up the act. "Come on! I still have to get my Christmas shopping done!"

Pouting childishly, Ruby rested her elbows on the counter. Mr. Gold shrugged carelessly. The lack of luxuries among the townsfolk weren't his problem nor did he lose a wink of sleep over it.

"I heard Mr. Clark's general store is very reasonable in terms of prices," he mocked her. Ruby's mouth dropped open in disbelief. He shifted away on his stool; she was getting no sympathy from him.

"Reasonable? You can't be serious!" Gold was hardly chuckling. "Shopping at Mr. Clark's is like willingly getting the flu. Every time I reach for my bags, he sneezes _all…over…them! _What ever happened to goodwill towards men?"

Ruby huffed, blowing a red-dyed strand of hair from her eyes.

"Unfortunately, I'm not that kind of man," Gold flatly replied. His offer stood. Ruby glared fiercely, but it held no candle to those of the Mayor.

"Clearly," she shot back angrily. The bell tinkled again, but the string of sneezes gave away the customer's identity. Ruby groaned obnoxiously and looked ready to bang her head against the counter. "Speak of the germ!"

Mr. Clark, a wad of damp tissues in hand, stumbled up to the bar. His short black hair was frosted with early morning snowflakes and his nose was raw and chafed from nonstop rubbing.

"H-hey, Ruby," he greeted in a nasally voice. "_Achoo! _Can you get me—_Achoo! _Can you…_A-achoo!_" Ruby grimaced as spittle flew onto the counter and she whipped her hands away before any of it could make contact with her skin. She rolled her eyes and tossed him a couple more napkins.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. A small coffee and a blueberry muffin. Coming right up," she muttered listlessly, dashing away. Mr. Clark's body shook violently as he sneezed, his head jerking forward.

"B-but make sure it doesn't have any ingredients I'm allergic to! Ruby!" Halfway to the kitchens, she spun on her heel.

"You are allergic to _everything!_ That's it—I'm buying you Claritin for Christmas. From your own store!" Ruby bellowed over her shoulder and half the diner's patrons turned their heads to notice the commotion. This town was starved for good entertainment in the morning.

"But that was Leroy's gift last year," Mr. Clark complained, but it fell on deaf ears. He tilted his head toward Gold, who was paying strict attention to the task of finishing his coffee so that he could be free of this crowd. "Morning, M-Mr. Gold," Clark miserably stuttered.

Mr. Gold gently brushed off his impeccable suit and inched away on his seat from the allergy-infested man. The last thing he needed at this time of year was falling ill. People would use his suffering as an excuse not to pay their rent.

As he quietly sipped his coffee, his earth-brown eyes scrutinized the bustling crowd. Each of them shared a glazed, hollow gleam in their irises that was only noticeable if you knew what to search for. No doubt Henry knew, but the boy had yet to bombard him with probing questions.

He was only half-aware of Ruby's heels clicking across the tiled floor and the crinkle of paper as she thrust Mr. Clark's food in his face. The diner door was opening again, bringing in a gust of wind that blew right through the silky material of his suit.

Emma.

The used-to-be Deputy, his precious curse-breaker, the town's savior.

Head bent low against the chill of the wind, she entered the diner with a stride that was confident, proud, swift. Emerald eyes shining in the light, she peered around with the scrutiny of one expecting battle before she spotted Henry. Immediately, a soft grin spread over her wary lips, a rare occurrence for her. He devoured it with undue eagerness.

She was the only one that interested him anymore in this town. A fresh challenge, unafraid of the measures he was capable of doling out. If he was being truthful, she had entranced him and amused him since that first meeting in Granny's Inn.

Somehow, he could not remove his eyes from Emma even as she crossed the diner to take a seat next to Henry. The back of her blonde head faced him, the waves shimmering golden over her shoulders. Henry's little face lit up like the star on top of a Christmas tree for his true mother.

Two little rays of sunshine, indeed.

"Ooh…Emma has an admirer," Ruby's chipper, caramel voice taunted in his ear.

When he turned his head around, he noticed her staring pointedly at him and lifting her eyebrows suggestively. He had an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach that the rumor mill would be churning today.

"I have no romantic interest in Miss Swan whatsoever," he brusquely denied, his accent thicker in his irritation. Didn't she have breakfast to serve? Ruby's red lips curled into a menacing smirk and a wicked flash of understanding danced in her eyes.

"If you say so, Gold. What I heard in that denial?" Ruby cupped her hands to her chest and a pink blush rose to her cheeks. "_Oh, Emma…please, let me hold you! Just one night, Emma! So I can die a happy man!" _His teeth gritted behind his lips and he slapped a palm down on the counter, interrupting her little show.

"You are walking on very thin ice," he warned. His lips barely moved in his fury. He only hoped Emma did not catch that stage-play or else he would never live it down. No, those loose waves still faced him.

"I'm just calling it like I see it," Ruby said, pointing a sharp nail at him. His eyelids narrowed.

"Perhaps you should have your eyes checked," he shot back.

Ruby picked up a gray rag and began wiping down the counter. She must have sensed Granny somewhere nearby—if she was slacking off on the job, Granny would let it be known. It also meant she wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"Back to my Christmas shopping dilemma—" Gold rolled his eyes in utmost annoyance. The girl was a stubborn one, indeed. Never knew when to let matters rest.

"My answer remains the same, dearie. No." He easily downed the rest of his coffee and placed the cup on the counter.

Grunting against the discomfort of his bad leg, he rose to his feet and anticipated the moment where he was safely away from this diner. He tried not to glance at Emma one last time, but it was too much to resist.

"It's three days until Christmas!" Ruby harped at his retreating back. He waved a gloved hand back at her, reveling in her unsatisfied demeanor. "I'll bet the only reason you're so careless and cold is because you've never even received a present from anyone."

On that note, he paused a foot or so from the bar. He knew he should have kept walking away, just ignored Ruby's ongoing complaints and return to the security of his shop. But for some reason that barb hit harder than the others and he spun back on his heel.

"I assure you that is not true," he said softly.

Why, there was the time…and the year when…and…His mind drew up blank. For one thing, he'd never invested in Christmas, even under the false identity of Mr. Gold. Not even Milah…but then, the only gift she had ever given him was Bae. Ruby nodded, silently gloating.

"Prove it," she challenged as he lingered near the bar, neither going nor staying. "I'll bet you couldn't get even one of these people to give you a present on Christmas."

Ruby scanned the generous crowd of townsfolk and some part of him knew she was right. Not one sane person in this town would chip in a single dollar toward his name. David? No. Whale? Definitely not. Mary Margaret? Maybe, but only if she felt sorry for him.

But the notion of such a bet triggered some form of interest in his mind. He was always one for a bet.

"And what would the official terms of this bet be?"

The young waitress perked up as she realized he was biting on her hook. She straightened considerably, smiling with anticipation. A thoughtful look crossed her face as she chose her words carefully. Clever girl.

"Hmm…it's three days until Christmas. I'll select a candidate. That person will need to willingly offer you a present by Christmas Eve. That means no bribery, no threatening about rent, no using any owed favors to cheat." It was clear to him that Ruby was trying to fill in all the holes that could undermine the bet.

"And who shall this candidate be?"

Ruby patiently glanced around at each person, discarding them with her eyes. Finally, she made it all the way around and settled on one golden head. The width of her smile was bright enough to suggest she might have won the lottery.

"Emma Swan." Immediately, his eyes traveled to where Emma lounged with Henry, her body hunched over his fairy-tale book. He arched an eyebrow inquisitively. Definitely a challenge.

"And what is it you want should I fail to receive a present from Miss Swan?" Unlikely, but he might as well hear her out. Though, he could practically taste the words already peppering Ruby's lips. Still, she touched a finger to her chin for effect. _Oh, out with it already, you silly girl. _

"If I win, you agree to lower the rent on our diner and inn," she proposed. It was a good thing he knew the logic and art of loopholes. Ruby herself was blissfully unaware of any mistakes or pitfalls she'd given him reign to enforcing.

"Very well," he agreed. "Now, should I win this little bet, I'm afraid you will agree to share Christmas dinner with…" Gold hastily took note of the crowd, searching for his own candidate. Ruby's muscles tensed, much to his satisfaction. _No, no, no. Whale? Perhaps. Or…ah, yes. Bingo! _"With the fabulous Dr. Hopper."

Gods knew Archie had been inviting him over to his place for Christmas dinner for the last several years. He always assumed Hopper simply viewed it as a chance to dig inside the mind of the town's most feared resident. Either that, or he was starving for company.

Ruby gaped at him in shock, the weight of her end of the deal sinking in. She eyed Archie suspiciously, sitting alongside Henry and sneaking small glances at Emma with the trained eye of a therapist.

"Are you kidding? The guy keeps crickets as pets! And he's a therapist! Every time I ask him to pass the butter or peas, he'll probably ask me some mind-seeking question like _how does that make you feel?_"

Mr. Gold inclined his head sharply and extended a steady hand.

"Do we have a deal?" Ruby stared down at it hesitantly as if the hand was going to bite her. She glanced at Archie, then back to Gold's hand. Sighing, she determinedly clasped it, which was surprisingly warm. _Warm hands, cold heart? _

"Deal. Three days, Gold," she stated. Mr. Gold started for the door, pausing only once to glance back at Ruby.

"My agreements are always honored, Ruby. And I never lose." The bet was on.

…..


	2. Carols and Candy Canes

_**A/N: Here is the second part of my little Golden Swan Christmas story. It won't turn out to be a very long story (I'm almost done writing it, actually) but I'm glad so many people are enjoying it for the holidays. If only they had a special Christmas episode for Once, complete with candy canes. **_

_**This chapter is a bit of fun. **_

Emma's stomach was filled to the brim with pancakes, eggs, and cocoa by the time she began the journey back to the station. She mentally groaned at the reminder of the stack of paperwork waiting on her desk. She dragged her feet slower on the slippery sidewalk.

It had been crowded at the diner, what with everyone craving the warmth of Granny's cocoa. Not to mention how Henry rattled her ear off about fairy tales again, though it had been delivered with decreasing amounts of enthusiasm since Graham died. The kid was taking it hard.

It was going to be their first Christmas together; she had three days left to find him a good gift. What did ten years old usually enjoy? Never had she stayed long enough in a foster home around that age to receive any special gifts.

As it turned out, she was in for her own surprise as she neared the entrance to the station. Her boots nearly slipped on the pavement as she halted in place.

"What are you doing?"

Her eyes flew from Gold standing on the sidewalk in front of her cruiser to Leroy, who happened to be on the roof and stringing up bright Christmas lights over the station. Folding his gloved hands over the gold-tipped head of his cane, Gold merely supervised.

"Is your eyesight failing you this morning, Emma?" There was an arrogant, ambiguous note in his voice. It hinted at something deeper than the task of decorating.

If he was talking about his presence in the diner this morning, how could she have not noticed? As still as Gold was, there was no denying he attracted moths to the flame. She simply chose not to mince words with the shady pawnbroker. Knowing the size of Gold's ego, it was more than likely bruised due to her lack of acknowledgment.

"I figured the station could use a little decorating for the holidays," he explained patiently, flashing his teeth from underneath his lips. No doubt he had paid Leroy generously for his efforts. There was even a figure of a reindeer on top of the roof, encrusted in white bulbs.

"Gold, it's the station. It's not supposed to look like Santa's toy shop!"

Her mouth hung open unattractively in protest. There was a strange fizzle, a sharp popping noise, and then the blinking lights ceased glowing. On top of the roof, Leroy cursed under his breath as he wrestled with the wires.

"No-good lights! One goes out, they all go out!"

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose anxiously. She sincerely doubted Graham ever had to put up with this during his time as Sheriff. If this was what the outside looked like, she only hoped Gold hadn't yet laid his sticky fingers on the inside. _Not my desk. Please, in the name of all things holy, not my desk. _

"Just for the record, this doesn't mean I owe you another favor," she grumbled. Gold's shoulders rolled languidly under the fabric of his expensive suit. And he was boasting about Christmas spirit? The man could use a Christmas tie if he claimed to be festive.

"Nonsense. Consider this a gift, purely out of the goodness of my heart," he insisted, pressing a hand to his chest. Emma snorted in response. That was a good one. Someone should inform Gold that April Fools' Day wasn't for a handful of months yet.

And why was he leering so intently? Was he expecting a gift in return? As if there were anything in the limits of this town that a man like Gold didn't already contain in the palm of his hand. Even she was trapped under his thumb with that favor.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!"_

Leroy must have gotten tangled in the coil of lights. The next thing Emma knew, he was toppling off the roof and plunging into the pile of snow below. There was hardly any movement as he landed, a flume of snowflakes bursting into the air. She hurried over to his side, though Gold barely moved a leg to help. Typical.

"Leroy? Leroy, are you alright?" Emma knelt over him, brushing a layer of snow off his body.

Leroy's head lolled back and forth, his arms and legs flailing in his discomfort. To any passersby, it would seem like he was making a snow-angel. Eyes wild and unfocused, one of his grubby hands reached up to stroke the red leather of her jacket.

"Santa?"

Oh, yeah. She was definitely calling Whale on this one.

It'd be a miracle in itself if Leroy didn't have a concussion from the impact of falling off a roof. How would she explain this one? Mr. Gold decided to be generous in hiring Leroy to string lights up on the station of the roof and then Leroy fell off the roof? She'd be laughed out of the ER and diagnosed with a head injury herself.

Frowning, Emma picked herself up and ignored the damp patches on her knees as she started for the station's door.

"Allow me," Gold quickly intercepted, swiftly jostling over to hold the door open. He gestured a hand for her to step through and he smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the sun.

For any other male in Storybrooke, it would be charming and polite. For Gold, it was downright suspicious.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Mr. Gold?" Emma folded her hands over her chest and tapped her boot on the pavement. His face crumbled into disbelief and he feigned hurt. Was she expected to believe this was out of the goodness of his heart, too? "What do you want?"

"Can't a gentleman open the door for our lovely Sheriff on a typically icy day?" This coming from the man with the limp and a third leg. If anyone was ending up on their butt, it wouldn't be her.

"Yes…except you're not a gentleman," she argued, daring to poke him in the chest. He stared down at her finger with the seriousness of having a sword aimed at his beating heart. The mesmerized gleam in his eyes was an open book: _She just touched me. Emma just touched me. _"You are an opportunist, Gold. Gentlemen don't pilfer newborns or pick people's pockets of rent three days before Christmas."

As if she just realized the ludicrousness of her finger poking his chest, she dropped it to her side. He habitually fixed his tie, averting his gaze from her stern, seeking one.

"I'm only here to help." Over his shoulder, she could see Leroy sprawled on the ground, still groaning in pain.

"Tell that to Leroy," she snapped before rushing through the station's door and away from Mr. Gold. He released the handle, allowing the door to bang back into place. That hadn't gone as well as he hoped. A string of lights swung back and forth off the roof, the bulbs flickering on and off.

Curiously, Gold glanced over at the fallen dwarf among the snow. Shoes crunching over the white frost, he approached Leroy's side and gazed down at him. He nudged his foot against his stomach, drawing out a moan.

"Rudolph? Is that you, buddy?"

Well, it could have been worse. He could have been the one to fall off the roof and end up imagining that Santa was paying him an early visit. _Time for Plan B. _

…

"_I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true. All I want for Christmas is yo-o-ou!" _

For a town drunk that just took a flying leap off a roof, Leroy sure had lungs. A peaceful smile glued to his face, Leroy sank his head back into the pillow and gave a bunch of thank you's to his audience.

"So, how much longer will he act like this?" Emma glanced at Whale for confirmation, but he was busy scribbling something on a clipboard. The weight of her question must have settled over him as he awkwardly met her expectant gaze.

"Miss Swan, according to your story, he fell off the roof of the station. That is a pretty substantial fall. He's lucky only to have bruises and a minor concussion. The confusion should subside…sometime."

Sometime. Huh. She never knew 'sometime' was a professional medical term. Right up there with _stat_ and _code blue_.

Leroy's head fell back and his mouth split open, a grunting snore issuing from it. Emma looked to Whale, but he wasn't paying the least bit attention. Some doctor he was. The only good one Storybrooke was equipped with, supposedly.

"Should he be asleep with a minor concussion?"

If Leroy succumbed to a coma, she'd have to start a search for his apparent true love in order to wake him up. It would give Henry a chance to be distracted from the loss of Graham, but she didn't know if she could handle the excitement.

"Please, I am a doctor. I'm pretty sure everything's fine," Whale assured her. It didn't sound very convincing. She gripped the bedrails of Leroy's hospital bed and leaned over it until Whale had no choice but to look her in the eye.

"Pretty sure? You mean you're not damn sure?" Whale's brow creased with uncertainty and he studied Leroy, debating whether to shove him awake or not. Finally, he sighed deeply and nudged Leroy's arm.

"Leroy?" He didn't budge, only let out another snore. Whale tried harder, shaking Leroy's arm until it flopped over his chest. "Leroy!" With a groan, Leroy came to and stared up at Whale. Just as he did with Emma, he fingered Whale's white lab coat.

"Frosty? Happy Birthday!" Emma was starting to worry over Leroy's state of mind. Whale simply detached himself from Leroy, brushed off his coat, and shrugged.

"Sometime," he repeated flatly. Avoiding her glare, he pretended to check his beeper. The thing hadn't even trilled! "Excuse me. Emergency." The doctor headed for the door and nearly collided into Mary Margaret, entering with a basket of candy canes swinging on her arm. "Ooh, candy canes."

Whale plucked one out, much to Mary Margaret's dismay and tucked it into his pocket before vanishing around the corner.

"How is he?" Mary Margaret hesitantly stepped into the room, the candy cane wrappers crinkling as they shifted over one another in the basket. Emma gestured to Leroy's bed-ridden form, but he beat her to the answer.

_"Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg…" _Mary Margaret tilted her head in alarm, her lips pinched in a worried frown.

"He's…festive," Emma admitted. "He's been singing carols ever since falling off the roof of the station." The worry increased around Mary Margaret and she pressed a hand to her mouth in horror.

"What was he doing on the roof of the station?"

Here came the punch-line. Emma had never seen the nurses laugh so loud as when she explained Leroy's injuries. You'd think she was practicing stand-up comedy. _Thank you, I'll be here all through Christmas. _

"Well…Gold was generous enough to hire Leroy to string up Christmas lights and decorate the station. And then he fell off the roof." For a second, Mary Margaret was still, the weight of Emma's words sinking in. Then, the corners of her lips twisted upward and she failed to stifle the giggle in her throat. "You don't believe me, either, huh?"

Mary Margaret's face grew red as she worked to staunch the laugh and regain her composure. It began to fade when she realized Emma was being completely serious.

"Oh, Emma, I do believe you. It's just…Mr. Gold isn't exactly the Ghost of Christmas Present. More like the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come." Mary Margaret immediately rushed forward, growing nervous. "Please don't tell him I said that. My rent's high enough as it is and I don't want to be evicted during the holidays."

_"Granny got run over by a reindeer…walking from the diner Christmas Eve…" _

Wasn't there any form of medicine Whale could give Leroy to stop making him act so…jolly? Emma rolled her eyes and motioned to the basket of candy canes that Mary Margaret was toting around.

"I thought you quit volunteering at the hospital," she pointed out. She knew Mary Margaret missed it—it had given her a chance to help out in the community for those that desperately needed it. But Mary Margaret shook her head wistfully.

"I'm not."

"Then what's with the basket of candy canes?"

As if she just remembered them, Mary Margaret lifted the basket off the crook of her elbow and passed them over to Emma. Uncertainly, she accepted it. What was she going to do with…one, two, ten…fifty or so candy canes?

"Oh, those are for you," Mary Margaret said, wringing her hands together in a ladder. Emma peered into the basket and picked up one of the candy canes, twirling it between her fingers. She laid it on the table beside Leroy, a little get-well gift.

"Thanks. Seriously, you didn't have to buy out Mr. Clark on all his candy canes. They're probably going to Henry and he'll be on a sugar high until New Year's," Emma protested. She tried to hand the basket back, but Mary Margaret held up a hand to stop her.

"They're not from me," she said.

Emma paused and looked down at the pile of candy canes again, this time with a mystery begging to be unfolded. Did she have a secret admirer now? Someone who was trying to bribe her out of parking tickets?

"Then, who…?" And suddenly it hit her with the intensity of ice-cold water. She glanced over her shoulder at Leroy, whose eyelids were fluttering. She scowled. "Let me guess: Gold left them outside our door?"

Mary Margaret raked a trembling hand through her cropped black hair, thinking.

"Well, _someone_ left them outside our door, but I have no idea who it was." She unzipped her handbag and reached in to retrieve a white envelope, with Emma's name scripted on the front in elegant, flowing handwriting. "There was a note with your name on it, but I didn't want to read it. Why would Mr. Gold send you a basket of candy canes? And decorate the station? Emma…is there something we should be discussing?"

Oh, good grief.

It was bad enough the situation with Gold was puzzling her to no end, but she could do without having _those_ kinds of thoughts circulating around town. Once Ruby caught wind of it, it'd be downhill from here.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Believe me when I say that I am_ not_ involved with Gold in any way, shape, or form." Snatching the note from Mary Margaret's hand, she tore it open and began to scroll over the perfectly printed words. Who ever knew Gold had such—dare she say—beautiful handwriting?

_My dearest Emma, _

_ I hope you are well. Please accept this gift as a token of my generosity and goodwill. I know how fond you are of my cane—I've seen the way you look at it. Here is a count of fifty for you. Enjoy._

_ ~Mr. Gold_

Emma re-read the note and then re-read it again. It wasn't computing into her mind the way it should. The letters blurred on the white paper and her fingers crinkled it. Generosity? Goodwill? Fond of his cane?

What in the name of Jack Frost was going on in this town?

A stroke of heat burned her cheeks as the contents of the note became branded into her memory. Breathing quite heavily and very aware that Mary Margaret was watching her with concern, she folded the note and then ripped it in half, tossing it into the bin next to the door. She was thankful Mary Margaret hadn't read the note—it might have spurred on the idea of romantic interest.

"I'll be back," she announced, picking up the basket from where she had absently laid it on Leroy's hospital bed while reading the note. There was only one solution to this problem—she'd simply have to confront Gold and demand to know what his game was.

"Just…don't kill him, Emma," Mary Margaret advised, her flats slapping the tiles as she hurried after her. Emma paused on the threshold and she forced a smile for Mary Margaret.

"Trust me, Mary. If I did, I'd probably be doing this town a favor and I'd be lucking out on one myself." Holstering the basket of candy canes onto her elbow, Emma marched out into the hallway with the cheerful notes of Leroy's confused singing licking at her heels.

_"Baby, its' cold…baby, it's cold outside!" _

….

_Decorate the station? Check. Send a basket of candy canes? Check. Take her out for Christmas dinner? No, I don't want to come off like I have a desire to bed her. Do I? No, decidedly not. _

The bell above the shop's door chimed, announcing a customer. Why did he ever invest in that Closed sign? It brought him no peace. Grimacing, he lifted his eyes and received a surprise of his own. Emma. Carrying his basket of candy canes. _Ah, so she did receive them. Excellent. _

"Emma," her name rolled off his tongue before he could stop it. It had a lovely sound, smoothly embellished by his accent. Before he could utter another syllable, she charged up to the display case and deposited the trove of candy canes.

"What are these?" She pointed to the treats without touching them, as if she might contract a disease.

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, he peered over the rim of the basket at the red and white striped canes. Quickly, he did a mental calculation. Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight…_A-ha! _Two were missing.

"From the looks of it…candy canes. Did you not enjoy my gift?" Emma's fingers curled around the handle of the basket until the knuckles turned bone white. The nails were painted crimson, a deliciously dark shade the Queen's apples would envy.

"I don't mind candy canes, but I have a policy against accepting them from men whose intentions are suspect," she said, arching an eyebrow. Then she lowered her voice. "I am _not_ fond of your cane."

And she received his note. He had the urge to laugh at that one. _Then why are you looking at it, sweetie? _

"Seems to me you broke your policy," he chastised rather smugly. When Emma merely blinked at him, he dipped a hand inside the basket and smoothed it across the mound of candy canes. "The basket I sent contained fifty candy canes. There are two missing. I have faith in your abilities to do elementary math, Sheriff."

Emma made a small 'O' with her lips, the dawning realization brightening her features from the inside out. A modest pink blush rose to her cheeks, discrediting her obliviousness. Perhaps she did not expect to get caught.

"Dr. Whale took one and I gave one to Leroy," she explained briskly. "You know, the guy that fell off the station's roof while stringing up Christmas lights?"

His hand paused over one of the candy canes. She allowed that pitiful doctor and Leroy to have his candy canes? If he wished to offer a cane to those two, he'd have left the basket outside their doors or otherwise make them lame.

The flicker of movement commanded his attention as Emma spread her palms on the counter and leaned toward him. The only things separating them were the display case and the basket of candy canes.

"And now you're sending me candy canes? What exactly are you trying to achieve?"

Without looking away from her burning green irises, he began to close the book in which he'd been jotting notes. Instantly, her gaze snapped to the leather volume with his finger still marking the page. With agility that rivaled his own, she snatched it up.

"What were you writing so meticulously? Something about me?" She thumbed through the pages, stopping only to scan his elegant penmanship.

Hastily, he circled the counter, his cane tapping sharply on the floorboards. He reached a hand out for the book, but Emma darted away out of reach.

"Emma," he warned through his teeth. She certainly knew how to try his patience. She shot him a bold look while sifting through the pages. He extended his palm insistently. "Give it here, dearie."

"What is it? Your diary? Why not call in that favor for it?" Roughly he licked his lips, struggling to maintain a clear head. It was amusing how she assumed she currently had the upper hand.

"I'm not one to waste favors, Emma. Hand it over or you'll force my hand." The threat wasn't about anything rash or abusive—despite his reputation and power as the Dark One, he'd never resort to hitting a woman in order to get what he desired. But he had a feeling she'd leave him no choice but to wrangle it from her. She would not enjoy being handled in such a manner.

"Resorting to violence isn't a show of generosity or goodwill, Gold," she openly mocked him, dancing out of his reach. "Besides, I'm younger, faster, and I happen to be the Deputy. I doubt there's anything you could do to convince me."

Something in his face must have startled her, for her fingers paused on the corner of a page, the one directly before his latest entry. Leisurely, his eyes roved from her head to her feet and up again.

"Words are precious, Emma. Never present a challenge you're unprepared to face," he advised with a low clucking of his tongue. Emma's lips thinned out as she considered his warning and what it might mean. Then she turned the page. Her brow furrowed as she read.

"Decorate the station? Send a basket of candy—" Lurching forward, he grabbed ahold of the book. Miraculously, Emma held on to one end even as the binding made a suspicious tearing sound. "—canes? Why are you keeping a list?" She tugged.

"They're my good deeds for the year. That way, my stocking won't be filled with coal when Santa comes." He tugged back. She dug her heels in to avoid stumbling into his chest. It was a fierce game of tug-o-war they were playing.

"It'll take more than two good deeds to clear your name, Gold," she scoffed. Another tearing sound reached his ears and he could swear he saw the binding wear out and stretch tighter. _Enough of this nonsense. _

His fingers released the book, sending Emma flying backward. Still, he did not miss the victorious smile plastered on her face. _The game isn't over yet, Emma. _

Before she could begin to gloat, he brought his cane up and around her body. The cane drove against the small of her back, pinning her firmly against his body. There was nowhere for her hands to move and so the book was pressed between them, a thin layer of protection for Emma. _I win. _He smirked down at their golden-haired savior, who was pouting quite ferociously.

"What did I tell you? Seems you were unprepared for my challenge."

Stubbornly, she pushed the book against his chest, forcing him to tumble backwards until his back collided against one of the display cases. Silly girl—it only reinforced the prison he'd established to subdue her. The cane dug tighter against her leather-clad back.

"The book, if you please." It was then he allowed his mind to stretch beyond its means and register just how close Emma was in proximity. He hadn't been this close to a woman since….no, he wouldn't reminisce about that.

As Emma breathed sharply in and out, he could feel the rising of her chest. His thumbs brushed against the leather of her jacket, light enough so that she did not notice. A hint of cinnamon lingered through the strands of her hair, teasing his nostrils; ever so gently, he inhaled. Delicious.

"This is considered assault," she protested. She tried to angle away only to be restricted by the cane. Every time she attempted to avoid the cane, she risked pressing harder against his body. She was trapped.

"So arrest me," he countered. Granted, it would mean matters more difficult to receive a gift from her in jail, but he liked his chances of calling her bluff. It wouldn't be a picnic for her to have him sitting across the room from her desk in a cell. "Go on. Slap the handcuffs on my wrists. Imagine how that would look three days from Christmas."

He knew he had her pegged when her muscles stopped tensing and her body ceased fighting against the tight corners in which she was bound. Finally, she sighed in defeat and thumped the book against his chest again.

"Fine. Have the book," she muttered and waited for him to release his hold.

Oh, but it was so amusing to watch the Sheriff writhe about like a butterfly trapped in a glass jar with nowhere to fly. His head bent closer to hers, his eyes never faltering from those gleaming, confident orbs. It made him grin wider to hear her breath quicken.

"Gold. You have your book. Now _let me go."_

Just a moment longer, he kept his cane pinned to her back, savoring the curves of her body as they nestled against his. Just to remind her who held the power here. And then the cane dropped away and Emma gratefully stepped back.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" He knew what she was referring to as she fumed, standing as far from him as possible. The reason for his change of attitude today. The sudden embodiment of Christmas spirit.

"Chances are…you'll know soon enough, Miss Swan," he replied, reverting to formalities. It gave her another reason to relax her muscles and be assured that he would not do anything intrusive.

The heat of her gaze bored into his back as he returned to the counter, putting the book away. No doubt Ruby—if she won the bet—would disclose all details to Emma. Assuming she won, which was still questionable in his book. Emma's knowledge about the bet would inevitably mean a decrease in trust, if he had any to begin with.

"Why let these canes go to waste? At least take them for little Henry," he offered.

Emma warily eyed the basket of candy canes, as if he might have poisoned them. That wasn't his style—even poisoned apples were quite unimpressive in his mind. Reluctantly, Emma stepped forward and accepted the basket before scurrying to the shop door.

Surprisingly, she turned back once her hand had caught the doorknob.

"Gold, this may sound…strange, but I'm afraid I have to know. Especially after that invasion of personal space. Do you…like me?"

Judging from the puzzlement on her face, it wasn't a hopeful question of whether there were returned feelings. His unexpected kind gestures, coupled with their close encounter a few moments ago, made her assume there were some romantic intentions attached. It was a surreal phenomenon to have one beauty fall for him once upon a time—he doubted fate valued him enough to repeat history.

"I believe I admitted it once before, Miss Swan. Your integrity and audacity intrigue me. I do like you. How you manage to interpret that is no concern of mine."

With the door edging open, she hesitated there on the threshold, watching him carefully. Was it a trick of the light or was there a flash of something softer in those green eyes? Shaking her head, Emma readjusted the basket on her elbow and flitted through the door.

Dipping his fingers into his pocket, he retrieved one of the candy canes he'd looted from the basket. Tearing back the wrapper, he stuck the straight end of the cane into his mouth and began to suck rapidly on it. His tongue wrapped around it and savored the peppermint taste.

The offer of those candy canes for Henry had spawned an idea in his mind. Why hadn't he considered it before? If his generosity toward Emma did not work, it was time he trained that generosity on someone connected to Emma, someone who might appreciate it and therefore get the job done.

Namely, her son.

….

_**Le gasp! What will Gold plan next? You'll have to wait and see! Good stuff is coming up yet. And I think you'll enjoy the special Golden Swan moment I am planning for the next chapter. (-; **_

_**I wish to present a basket of candy canes to those that have reviewed. Thank you all for the kind comments and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Here's to discotimelord, louisethelibrarian, DaesGatling, QueenCalafia, ParanormalMoonlight, PsychoticQueen, helikesitheymikey, nuckythompson, beverlie4055, thedoctorsgirl42, spankingfemfatale, and a. . **_

_**And four for Glen Coco (you go, Glen Coco)! Sorry—couldn't resist. **_


	3. Mistletoe

_**A/N: Ooh, I think you guys will seriously like this chapter. It has a lot of good stuff in it and a special surprise for Golden Swan at the end (I'm not spoiling it!) so enjoy! **_

_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas…_

The golden rays of early morning sun flowed through the window, stirring Emma from a peaceful slumber. Her nose twitched as the rich scent of melted chocolate wafted in from the kitchen. Clenching her eyes shut, she buried her head under the pillow. _Just five more minutes of sleep. Five teeny, tiny minutes…_

Then her phone rang from the bedside table, disrupting all hope of falling back asleep. Groaning, Emma blindly snaked a hand out and fumbled for the irritating phone and she took it under the pillow with her.

"'Lo?" Emma mumbled sleepily. She only prayed it wasn't an emergency. Or…what if it was Gold? The memory of yesterday—of the Christmas lights, candy canes, and being rudely handled in his shop—drifted back to the surface of her mind. She still hadn't figured out what he was up to lately.

"Miss Swan, I know you are responsible for this…this…shenanigan. Don't you dare play the sleep card with me," Regina's snide voice barked through the phone. Just the first thing Emma wanted to hear in the morning.

Slowly, Regina's words planted inside Emma's brain and began to make sense. Shenanigan? Responsible? What was she blabbing on about now?

"Believe it or not, I was asleep until thirty seconds ago," Emma shot back, tossing the pillow away from her head. She rubbed the sleep from her tired eyes.

"Then where, pray tell, did the horse come from?" Horse? Was she still stuck in a dream? Because not one ounce of that statement was computing.

"You mean the one in the mirror? That would be your reflection," she quipped dryly. She wasn't exactly the most considerate person after being rudely awakened at…seven? That's what the town clock said, unless it had stopped in time again. Seven in the morning.

There was a low, displeased 'hmph' on the other end.

"Hysterical, Miss Swan. No, I meant the horse underneath my apple tree. The one with Christmas ribbons braided in its tail. It's munching on my apples! I know you had something to do with this."

Emma yawned widely and pulled her body into a sitting position. She was convinced this must be a dream. One of those really strange dreams right before Christmastime, supposed to teach her a lesson. Either that, or Regina was hallucinating horses under her tree. With her luck, she'd race out to the Mayor's house and it'd turn out to be a chipmunk.

"Did you hear what I said—" Emma winced and held the phone away from her ear. Nails on a chalkboard would sound more heavenly.

"Yeah, I heard you, Regina. Something about a pony with fashion sense. I can assure you I haven't raided any stables recently."

"If you didn't happen to forget your horse in my yard, then I suppose you have a logical idea of who might have done it," Regina snapped. Was her voice getting louder? Emma kneaded her forehead.

"Gee, I don't know. Santa Claus? Maybe the horse wouldn't fit in his sleigh." She could practically sense Regina's temper through the phone. She was surprised there wasn't a mysterious explosion halfway across town.

"Enough jokes, Miss Swan! I want this horse out of my yard or I shall take matters into my own hands." A sharp click resounded in Emma's ear and she scowled down at the phone in her hand. _Merry almost-Christmas to you, too. _

Honestly, Emma would have loved nothing more than to watch Regina try to coax a horse out of her backyard—assuming it wasn't a trick of her mind. However, she knew Regina would attempt something of the kind and she really didn't want to be the one to have Henry upset and popping up in the backseat of her Bug.

Grumbling, Emma dressed and slipped on her boots. She charged out into the main room of the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret. Speaking of her roommate, the supposed Snow White was already baking another batch of Christmas cookies for the townsfolk. If he kept up the 'generosity', even Gold might earn a plate this year.

"Where are you off to so early?" Mary Margaret kindly inquired, dropping a Hershey kiss into her mouth. Emma pocketed her keys.

"I need to remove the horse from Regina's backyard," she moaned. Once she was gone, Mary Margaret swallowed the chocolate and eyed the cellophane-wrapped plates of cookies.

"What did I put in those sugar cookies last night?"

…

Emma pulled up outside the Mayor's grand white house. She didn't bother knocking on the front door as her feet crunched across the frosted grass. If Regina was telling the truth—seriously? A horse?—then she might as well head for the backyard. _Of all the insane things I've heard that woman say, this one takes the fruit cake. She thinks a horse is actually—_

There was a haunting whinny from the backyard. A neigh, loud and clear.

Emma's boots halted just shy of the corner of the house, her ears perked to listen. Did she just hear that right? Maybe she should have stopped into the diner for a coffee to jolt her mind awake. Another neigh rose, just to prove that she wasn't senile.

Quickly, not too much to risk slipping, Emma padded through the snow and the apple tree loomed into view. It must be magic if Regina's apples could survive on their branches with a glittering layer of ice coating their red skin. Emma's eyes flashed downwards, to the space directly under the tree.

And there stood a horse.

A living, breathing chocolate-brown horse. True to Regina's word, its silky tail swished back and forth lazily, braided with red velvet ribbons and gold tassels. Beside it was Henry, who was feeding it bits of apple despite Regina's hysterical protests. _You'd think the horse was eating Henry. But, no, it's just her precious apples. _

"Emma!" Henry exclaimed happily, waving her over. Regina spun around and glared at her with the intensity of a frozen sun. The breath seeping from her nose fogged in the air and Emma couldn't help but picture a fire-breathing dragon in her mind.

"You have a horse under your apple tree," Emma pointed out. The horse snorted roughly in answer, earning a stroke of the mane from Henry. The two seemed to be getting along like old friends.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Miss Swan. I'm sorry if not all of us contain good humor at seven in the morning," Regina retorted, crossing her arms defiantly over her black jacket. Did the woman have even a shade of pink in her closet?

Emma chose to ignore the Mayor in favor of the happiness on Henry's face. It was a far cry from the solemn depression she'd witnessed after Graham's untimely death. She was glad for it. The last time Henry appeared to smile this much was when she agreed to stay in town.

"Emma, look! I got a horse!" Regina immediately whirled and lifted the bowl of apples away from Henry's feet. The horse whinnied, as though demanding she put the apples back at once.

"No, you don't! He is going back where he came from! Right, Miss Swan?" Henry pouted before switching his wide eyes to Emma. There was a hopeful bright light dancing there; he was silently pleading with her not to take his horse away.

"But I've always wanted a horse," he cried, clinging to the horse's side. Emma wouldn't be surprised if the kid took down his bed-sheet rope, tied himself to the apple tree, and protested against Regina whisking the horse away.

Emma really hated breaking the kid's heart. That was why she decided not to be the one to do it.

"Really?" She dared to raise a skeptical eyebrow against the Mayor. "You're going to ruin his Christmas Eve eve?" Henry stifled a small laugh, turning it into a cough. Regina narrowed her eyes threateningly as Emma clearly took the opposing side.

"You wish to be the one to escort him to the hospital when he falls off that animal and breaks an arm or leg?"

Emma didn't think this would be a good moment to suggest riding lessons for Henry. According to him, this town was filled with fairy tale characters._ Someone_ had to know how to ride a horse. She was pretty sure Snow White and Sleeping Beauty didn't drive around in a Bug or Mercedes across the land.

"And where am I supposed to keep it? Clearly, under my apple tree is unsuitable. And if you think that disgusting thing is putting one hoof into my house, I suggest you consult that notion with Archie."

Emma met Henry's eyes again and watched as his lip drooped in exaggerated sorrow. Oh, the kid was good. He knew how to tug at her heartstrings, even if she was still learning how to be a mother. She sighed, her breath forming a cloud before her face.

If anyone was intending to ruin Henry's hopes, the answer would always be Regina.

"We'll figure something out," she promised, winking in his direction. Regina's mouth shot open in disbelief.

"And you call yourself his mother," she growled in frustration and stormed inside the house. Probably off to her office to call someone who would be more efficient at getting rid of a horse.

When she was gone, the horse relaxed some. Henry rushed over and hugged her tightly. Nearly stumbling backward, Emma returned the embrace, savoring the feel of his warmth around her middle. It gave her a strange, fuzzy feeling inside.

"Oh, wait," Henry abruptly cried as he pulled away. He dug his gloved hand inside his coat pocket and Emma distinctly heard something crinkle. "This was hanging on one of the bows. Apparently Hershey likes candy, too." Hershey. The kid already named the horse. _Once you name it, it's all over. _

Henry pulled something out and handed it over. A chill skittered down Emma's spine and she was only half-aware of her fingers wrapping around the thin form of the Christmas treat. It was a candy cane.

….

"So, how's the bet going?"

Ruby swept past him with a tray loaded with steaming burgers and fries to be served. Never had he shared so many words with the seductive young waitress. It seemed the moment he sat down at the bar, she had pounced. He rested his cane between his knees and frowned.

"Difficult to tell. I've offered to decorate the station, I've sent her a basket of candy canes…I even resorted to playing to Henry's desires in giving him a horse. Only time will tell if Miss Swan will be so generous."

Ruby hurried off to deliver the food before Granny could catch her slacking. When she returned in a flurry of red, there was a small smirk on her glossy lips. It brimmed with confidence.

"Sounds like someone's present-earning status is hanging in the balance," the waitress remarked, sultry eyes gleaming magnificently with delight. He leaned his elbows on the surface of the bar and gave her a stony look.

"Did I say I would not win? I only admitted it was difficult. Not impossible," he berated. Ruby rolled her eyes to the ceiling, choosing not to believe him. Surely, there was something he could do to appease Emma. Some slippery way to get inside her mind.

"Whatever you say, Gold. Just remember: two days." Ruby held up two long fingers for emphasis. She trotted off, humming '_We Wish You a Merry Christmas.' _He hoped she would be this cheerful when dining with Archie.

"_Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" _

The rhythmic chanting interrupted his thoughts, directing his focus to the diner's door. On the threshold stood David and Kathryn Nolan, arriving for some lunch. Above their heads, right over the diner's door, was mistletoe.

Smiling like the happy lovebirds they were expected to be, the Nolans shared a modest kiss that made the whole diner erupt in a fit of clapping and cheering. Gold's eyes swiveled to Mary Margaret Blanchard a few tables away. She was the only one that did not appear pleased, her heart swelling inside her eyes.

"If only we started accepting bets on the mistletoe," Ruby clamored behind the bar. "We'd probably have more than enough to pay our rent. That's the third time this morning someone's been caught underneath it."

He had to wonder what Granny thought of holding a kissing seminar in her doorway. Unless she had already been caught underneath it as well. It had been a blessing that no one had met him at the door.

"Need I ask who the previously unfortunate couples were?" Ruby twitched her nose and thought back.

"Well, the first was Granny and Marco." Ruby stuck a finger down her throat. "Gross. The second—can you believe it—was Whale and Regina! I'm pretty sure someone snapped a picture."

He almost choked on air. Whale and Regina? Frankenstein and the Queen? If only he'd been present for that tender moment. He'd never let her forget it. Why did he always miss the good stuff?

A brilliant flash of red caught his eye as Emma strode along the sidewalk outside the diner. The lightbulb clicked on over his head. What better way to nestle himself comfortably inside Emma's mind than to give her something pleasurable to remember?

Hastily rising from his stool, he sent a mischievous smile toward Ruby. This ought to slap the confidence right out of her.

"Perhaps I'll take a leaf out of the Nolans' book," he hinted, much to Ruby's astonishment. If she thought Granny and Marco were displeasing, he sensed she'd be nothing short of disgusted by the show he was about to enact for her.

He headed for the door as Emma pulled it open, a thin whirlwind of snowflakes wrapping around their bodies. Halfway there, he purposely made his cane slip on the tiled floor and he stumbled into her path, keeping her safely on the threshold.

"Forgive me, Sheriff. This leg isn't quite what it used to be," he sincerely apologized while she brushed off her leather jacket. He wondered if she was reminiscing about their close encounter the day before. She certainly was blushing.

"Imagine that," she replied wistfully, gazing down at his bad leg. And now she was eyeing his cane again. Stubborn girl. "What's that old phrase? You can lead a horse to an apple tree?"

Ah, the horse.

No doubt Regina had given Emma a rude awakening this morning. She looked quite worn and he bet her hair wasn't suited for a fashion magazine as she had messily tied it back in a ponytail. Truthfully, it had been quite simple getting the horse into Regina's yard—he had his bodyguard do it.

"I hope Henry enjoyed the present," he said, placing the tiniest emphasis on 'present.' Emma stared at him suspiciously. Unbeknownst to her, every pair of eyes was watching their exchange and she hadn't yet looked up.

"Yeah, he loved it. Until Regina had the horse sent back to the stables. I promised Henry he could visit, though." His fingers curled tightly over his cane. He should have expected Regina to ruin her son's happiness…again. Did she know how long it took to braid that horse's tail with ribbons?

Emma tilted her head to the side and began to drift away, but he caught her by the arm. Immediately, she bristled, staring down at his hand in alarm.

Deliberately, he inclined his head back and glanced up. Emma inevitably followed his gaze, spotted the mistletoe. She drew in a sharp gasp of realization.

"Mistletoe. What are the odds?" He pointed to the overhanging decoration meant to trigger intimacy. The color drained out of Emma's face faster than Frosty the Snowman could melt away on a hot day. She wrenched her arm from his grasp.

"No way. There is absolutely no way I am kissing someone like you," she thundered, taking a step back. Beyond her shoulder, he could see Ruby making out the bill for a customer, but she was grinning worse than any imp. That included him.

"It's Christmas custom, dearie. Practically a law in December," he reasoned. Looming forward, he observed the way her eyes darted around the diner, seeking some form of help. Everyone lowered their eyes or anticipated the inevitable. "You're not one to break laws, are you?"

"Some laws were meant to be broken," Emma declared hotly.

Decidedly, she turned on her heel and began to walk away. No matter. He counted off the seconds, running a careful hand across the silk of his suit. It was a good thing he always dressed for the occasion. He even checked his breath. Minty fresh, thanks to the candy canes.

"Ah, I see. You're afraid," he dared to retort. "No harm in that."

Just as he expected, Emma's heels halted before she could make it more than three feet. Her shoulders tensed and he could almost hear the racing of blood through her veins. Slowly, she pivoted toward him once more. It was good to see she had some color back in her cheeks.

"Excuse me?" There was acidy warning in her voice. Emma Swan had been called many names in her lonely lifetime, to be sure. But he knew she treasured her strength and did not appreciate being falsely labeled a coward.

"Don't fret, Emma," he cooed, waving a gloved hand in her direction. Play it smoothly and delicately. "I know how intimidating it must be, getting caught under the mistletoe with a man like me. The answer is simple. You are afraid to kiss me."

Fists curling by her side, Emma's body radiated annoyance. Marching back to his side, she came face to face with him, unblinking even as his breath warmed her skin.

"No, I'm not," she argued, staring him down. Unfortunately, he was capable of matching her gaze perfectly. He shrugged carelessly, which only seemed to irritate her more.

"Prove it," he hissed.

The entire diner was still as Emma weighed the pros and cons in her head. Allow him to kiss her in front of the whole diner two days before Christmas Eve? Or walk away and risk hearing it every time she entered his shop? Tough choice.

Finally, she quit seething and dipped her head once.

"Okay," she whispered, spreading her arms out by her sides. Oh, no. She wasn't getting off the hook that easily. Not if he had anything to say about it. Plus, he adored seeing Emma all worked up.

"Okay what?" Emma shot him an impatient glare, silently begging him to do it and be done with it.

It would thrill him to no end to hear her say it. When she understood that he didn't intend to ease her pain at any moment, she rubbed her forehead. She knew what he wanted.

"Gold…kiss me." Ooh, he did love her grant of permission.

He inched closer, a snake bearing down on the timid mouse. Except Emma was not timid in the least. Oh, she was a fierce one, a true lioness. Gently, he brought his hand up under her blonde hair to cup her neck, his finger stroking her skin.

"With pleasure."

And then his lips descended over her soft ones, catching her open-mouthed in a protest. He urged her against his body, forcing her to place her hands on his chest. At first, Emma was frozen in shock as he plundered her mouth, absorbing her sweet taste.

Ever so slowly, Emma's hands slithered up to his neck. For all he knew, she could have been intending to strangle him off her, until he felt the gentle response of her lips moving along his own. She was giving in, breaking, kissing him back. Beautiful.

His hands slid along the curve of her back and he kissed her harder than before until he heard her moan. The entire diner seemed to slip from underneath his feet and all he could smell was that tantalizing cinnamon as a strand of gold loosened from her ponytail. No, he could taste it on her lips. Gods, she tasted like cinnamon.

"Gold," Emma rasped, her breath coming heavy as the kiss broke. It was not tinted with desire, but warning.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and noticed the pink rouge of her cheeks. Those deceptively soft lips had grown red from the pressure of his mouth on hers. Her pupils glistened and enlarged—he had the sensation of drowning in them as he gazed upon her in wonder.

It seemed she had trouble registering what had just passed between them as well. Gradually, her hands slipped away from his neck as reality weighted her down to the ground. Breaking free of his grasp, she gathered her composure and smiled victoriously.

"You see? I'm not afraid of anything." And, turning her back, she left him with the taste of cinnamon lingering on his tongue.

….

_***cue the 'awwwws'* Wasn't that sweet? A nice Golden Swan kiss under the mistletoe! Okay, you knew I just had to use mistletoe to my advantage, being the huge Golden Swan shipper I am. *laughs evilly***_

_**Now I must thank all my reviewers for their lovely words and for enjoying the story so much. A huge thank you goes out to discotimelord, Sweetangelz18, helikesitheymikey, DragonRose4, ParanormalMoonlight, spankingfemfatale, thedoctorsgirl42, beverlie4055, pinkcrazyness, Daesgatling, scifigrl10, and nuckythompson. **_

_**I wish you all a Merry Christmas, indeed!**_


	4. Reciprocity

_**A/N: Wow, holy reviews! I had so many waiting for me in my inbox that I'm pretty sure I was smiling the rest of the day. It seems you guys really enjoyed that Golden Swan kiss! Well, so did I. Here is some more fun for you. Will Gold win the bet? **_

_The Mirror_ was alive this morning and proved to be the talk of the town. The headlines boasted about _Mistletoe Madness _at the diner. Underneath the inky block type were two photos: one of Marco nearly sweeping Granny off her feet, the other of Emma in the arms of Mr. Gold, locking lips with the town's most feared resident. The rumor mill was churning today.

Emma frowned at the picture and tossed the newspaper on the bedside table.

"_Last Christmas I gave you my heart, but the very next day you gave it away. This year to save me from tears I gave it to someone special…"_

"Here, Leroy. You can watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas,_" Mary Margaret kindly turned up the volume on the ancient hospital television hanging on the wall in the corner. The cartoon was in black and white and any minute now it looked like the television was going to drop off the wall.

"Like that will stop him from singing," Emma murmured.

She studied Leroy over her shoulder—he was sucking on the candy cane she'd left him yesterday. Occasionally, he pulled it out of his mouth to sing another carol. Whale still couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. They should all at least be thankful that he didn't imagine himself as Santa. _No, he's convinced that I am. _

"So…" Mary Margaret drew out the word until it could be spelled with ten O's. She returned to Emma's side and fingered the petals of the poinsettias on Leroy's bedside table. The nuns had been delivering them all morning to each patient. "I still can't believe you kissed Mr. Gold."

Emma rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Ever since that tender moment in the diner, Mary Margaret had been coming off a little motherly on Emma. First, she'd been startled and then gushed over it endlessly and then swore that she would do unladylike things to Mr. Gold if he ever hurt Emma. She couldn't really picture Mary Margaret with a chainsaw.

"I can't believe you're still reminding me of it. It was just one kiss! It's not the end of the world or anything remotely dramatic that would win Bruce Willis an Oscar," she protested. She moved to the end of the hospital bed, but Mary Margaret dogged her heels.

"Yes, it was one kiss. You're right. One long, intimate, heated kiss…" Emma shot her a warning look. Shouldn't she be the one blushing? "If it had no effect on you, you wouldn't be thinking about it." Emma moaned in frustration.

"I'm not thinking about it," she argued. Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow to contradict her words. Emma gave in. "Okay, I am thinking about it. But only because you brought it up. Again." There was a small smile on Mary Margaret's lips that begged to differ.

Emma would never admit to it, but Gold had undeniably been stuck on her mind since that kiss. It was just a kiss—it didn't mean anything. But if Emma didn't keep her mind busy, it would wander back to that moment and she'd once again feel his demanding lips on hers. She hadn't meant to kiss him back; at first she meant to shove him away. It just…happened.

_"IIIII saw Mr. Gold kissin' Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night," _Leroy belted out. Emma slapped her palm against the bedrail.

_"Leroy!" _He ignored her outburst and continued to whistle the tune even as his glazed eyes went back to watching the Grinch steal a Christmas tree.

"Maybe you should get Mr. Gold a present for Christmas," Mary Margaret suggested, clasping her hands together. Hope and sincerity sparkled in her green eyes. "I'm sure he must be lonely this time of year." Was her roommate secretly pushing her and Gold together? Emma stared at her like she was stir-crazy.

"And what exactly would I get the man who can afford anything? Besides Regina's head on a platter." Not that she was planning on doing some last minute shopping for him. Even Mr. Clark's store was swamped with shoppers. Mary Margaret shrugged.

"It's the thought that counts. No one should be without a gift on Christmas." Emma didn't disagree with Mary Margaret's sugary-sweet logic, but she didn't outright agree, either. _Maybe if he's lucky I'll consider it…if I happen to pass a store with decent Christmas sales. _

A firm knock at the door shook Emma out of her thoughts of gift-shopping and she turned to see the Mayor lingering in the doorway. As usual, her face was pinched with distaste as she coolly met Emma's hard-edged gaze. Her ruby lips parted to speak and—

_"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch," _Leroy exclaimed, eyeing Regina before she could announce the reason for her presence. Immediately, her stern eyes snapped to Leroy with murderous rage. Mary Margaret stifled her giggle, only to earn a piercing glare herself.

"Something funny, Miss Blanchard?" Every syllable dripped with acid, making Mary Margaret blanch under her searing focus. She tapped her throat and cleared it, ridding it of humor.

"No, of course not. I just…I had a tickle in my throat," she meekly explained. She coughed roughly for emphasis. "Winter bug." Emma sent her a disappointed look that suggested she shouldn't lie down at Regina's feet. But Regina was the Mayor and Mary Margaret's compliance reminded her that there were some who truly feared the witch.

And Regina knew it, loved it, devoured it.

"Then I suggest you find a cough drop and squish that bug immediately," she spat. Mary Margaret panned her focus on her shoes, wincing at the harshness of Regina's tone. "Isn't he supposed to be discharged?"

The Mayor started toward Leroy's hospital bed as if planning on dragging him out with her own two hands. Emma crossed her arms defiantly, blocking Regina's view of Leroy.

"Aren't you supposed to be poisoning your apples?" Regina's head whipped back with the abruptness of being slapped. Only verbally, not physically. Emma upheld a staring contest with her; it lasted for at least a whole minute before Regina's eyes flickered away.

"I'm here to have a word with you, Miss Swan." _Great, what did I do this time? Forget to give her some figgy pudding? _

"Is this about the horse again?"

Regina scrunched her nose at the reminder of Hershey's existence. She still hadn't cleaned up the mess that was left behind in her yard. And Henry continuously dropped hints that his life would be so much more pleasant with a horse. _Can't drop me off at school? This wouldn't happen if I had a horse. _

"Indirectly," she admitted. Her raven-black eyes swiveled to Mary Margaret and she pointed a lacquered red nail at the door. "Would you mind?" Judging by the invisible daggers being aimed at Mary Margaret's cardigan-covered chest, it wasn't a request. It was an order.

"I…I'll see you at home, Emma. I have…lots of baking still left to do," she told her roommate, trying her best to be calm around the radiation of irritation emanating from Regina. Quickly, Mary Margaret gathered her bag and kept her head down. "Enjoy the movie."

_And now I'm alone with the Mayor and jolly old St. Leroy. Joy to the world. I'd rather be back in the diner with Gold. _

"Movie?" Regina made it sound like Mary Margaret had just uttered the word 'drugs' or anything else equally harmful.

Emma had struggled to gain some form of time with Henry this Christmas. Finally, they managed to work out a deal—Emma had Henry during Christmas Eve while Regina spent all of Christmas Day with "her son."

"Yeah, a movie. Not a cult. I'm taking Henry to see the Muppets' Christmas Carol," she explained firmly. _What are you going to do about it? _Regina stepped further into the room and her lips visibly pouted. _What's the matter? Haven't you come up with any exciting plans for him? Or are you just planning on having dinner and watching him across the table unless he makes an escape? _

"I've heard questionable things about those puppets. I don't like them," she insisted. _You don't like anything remotely fun, _Emma thought bitterly. She leaned against the bed rail and sighed.

"You said you wanted a word?"

Regina's head jolted up at the sharpness in Emma's voice. She didn't have time to listen to Regina's attempts to spread unhappiness throughout Storybrooke. She probably already terrified the newborn babies. Silently, Regina dipped her head.

"Well, then….let's get on with it."

….

It was the final day of the bet; day three.

Thankfully Ruby, despite all her care and measure of loopholes, had not been clever enough to place an official deadline on their bet. She'd only implied that he must receive a present from Emma by today. Just to be sure, he avoided the diner at all costs.

The Christmas lights were a no-go, the candy canes had failed, the horse had been sent back to the stables with Henry's happiness deflated…not even that marvelous kiss had brought Emma around. His mailbox had been empty, not a single wrapped present to be seen.

After an entire night of tossing and turning, he determined that it all boiled down to one last chance: reciprocity.

The candy canes hadn't worked, but then those hadn't been a real Christmas gift. That was what Emma needed—a real Christmas gift. And then, she'd either be so pleased or feel so guilty that she would reciprocate and offer him a gift. It was quite logical in his mind, anyhow.

But what should he get her?

He perused his shop for something she might like, only to scowl. Would she want the Mickey phone? No, that was more up Henry's alley. A boat? The swords? Or what about the beautiful glass unicorn mobile that once belonged to her dear mother, Snow White? Yes, that was it—it would at least trigger some familiarity of their land and—

No, it wouldn't work. After that kiss, she'd probably assume it was his obnoxious way of saying '_let's make babies together.' _Stroking his cheek, he could nearly feel the sting of her slap now.

Nothing seemed good enough. He'd try making her something himself, but what would he possibly make her? A pathetic Christmas card with a snowman on the front and white glitter? Definitely not.

He sighed and settled down behind his desk. Nothing but useless junk in this shop. Resting his forehead against the head of his cane, he closed his eyes and thought deeply on the matter.

Maybe….maybe what he needed was some friendly advice.

….

_Rockin' around the Christmas tree; let the Christmas spirit ring…Later we'll have some pumpkin pie and we'll do some caroling…_

Mary Margaret hummed and twirled with the music as she pulled the last tray of piping hot Christmas cookies from the oven. She inhaled the sugary chocolate aroma and placed the tray on the table to cool. All that was left was to send these plates to their rightful homes for the holidays.

She guiltily swept up one of the cooled chocolate chip cookies and bit down on it. Closing her eyes, she moaned in bliss, the rich chocolate melting on her tongue. Ooh, that hit the spot. Perfect in every way.

A knock at the door startled her from her delightful reverie. Who could it be on Christmas Eve? Emma was taking Henry to see the Muppets Christmas Carol at the drive-in. Surely, the movie couldn't be over already? Another sharp knock rapped on the door, making her quicken her steps.

"Coming," she announced and tugged open the door after first stuffing the cookie in her mouth. She was not prepared to see Mr. Gold on the other side. "M-Mr. Gold," she stuttered and nearly choked on the cookie. Tears blurred her vision as she roughly swallowed it, the chocolate that was once sweet now burning her throat. God, she needed a large glass of milk.

"Is Miss Swan here?" Emma.

Mary Margaret couldn't believe the intensity of the kiss her roommate had shared with Mr. Gold under the mistletoe at the diner, even though she'd witnessed it with her own two eyes. His calculating brown eyes scanned the apartment over her shoulder. If she didn't answer him soon, he might just barge in.

"I'm sorry, no. She's taking Henry to a movie," she explained and began to edge the door closed as a friendly hint. His cane abruptly slammed against it, stopping it in place.

"Good," he replied, catching her by surprise even more. He wasn't here to see Emma? But Mary Margaret assumed that those two…that he might have wanted to…"Actually, Miss Blanchard, I'm here to see you."

Oh, she was quite thankful she'd swallowed that cookie. No doubt it would have gotten stuck in her windpipe after that admission. She wrung her hands together nervously as she inevitably regained his attention.

"Are you here about the rent? Because I paid it early this month, what with Christmas—" He impatiently waved a hand to calm her down. She wondered how many times someone asked him that question when he unexpectedly showed up on their doormats.

"I'm not here about the rent," he muttered. Mary Margaret sensed his turmoil and waited. "I am in need of advice."

Mary Margaret was struck speechless. If someone asked her to compose a list of the reasons for having Mr. Gold appear at someone's door, this would have been possibly the last reason on the list. And it wasn't a very long list to begin with.

Advice? _Mr. Gold, _the most powerful man in Storybrooke who could get anything he wanted with the snap of his fingers, was asking for _advice? _As in…dating advice?

She realized he was anticipating a response and she stepped back, allowing him space enough to pass.

"Please, come in," she invited him.

He silently brushed past, the scent of his cologne wafting under her nose. Never had she had Mr. Gold in her apartment for anything other than the rent. It felt surreal, as though she were trapped in a strange dream and couldn't figure out how to wake up. _Don't be a dolt, Mary Margaret! Offer him a cookie! He's eyeing them greedily enough. _

"Would you…like a cookie?" Curiously, he examined the tray of cookies on the table and he chose one of the sugar cookies. She was about to warn him that those cookies just came out of the oven and that he'd burn his tongue, but it didn't seem to bother him as he took a generous bite.

"Emma is fortunate to be living with someone with such fine cooking skill," he complimented her, making her blush a steady shade of pink. She could count all the people Mr. Gold had ever complimented on one hand.

"You must have some cooking skill as well," she blurted out. _Did I just imply living arrangements for Emma with Mr. Gold? _Finishing his cookie, he licked his fingertips though his eyes never strayed from her face. "I mean, since you're so good at so many things…"

_Smooth, Mary Margaret. You're making a wonderful impression on the man. Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down _there…_You're supposed to be supportive of Emma, no matter the type of guy she's willing to date! _This wasn't going well at all. She was practically sweating under his scrutiny.

"What can I help you with?"

She busied herself with preparing the last plate of cookies for the holidays. Maybe she should send Mr. Gold a plate, now that he had caught her in the act of baking. It'd be rude to ignore him now, wouldn't it? A scrape of the stool against the floor alerted her that he was sitting down.

"I'm looking for a present for Emma," he said a bit hesitantly. Mary Margaret faced him and noted the perplexity written on the pawnbroker's face. That was new. And he had trouble finding a gift? Of all the priceless antiques in his shop, she figured he might easily be able to find something for Emma.

Mary Margaret leaned against the counter and considered it in silence. What would Emma like for Christmas? She herself bought a new flannel pair of pajamas to replace the old ratty ones Emma kept as well as a new leather jacket.

"I've only known Emma for a little while, but I've learned that she's not the type to depend on someone else. She never asks for anything in return," Mary Margaret boasted with a smidgeon of pride. Then again, Emma's insistence upon not needing anything made her difficult to shop for. "All Emma wants is Henry's happiness, really."

Mr. Gold gave a ragged sigh. Had she somehow disappointed him with that answer? Had he been expecting an entire wish list to Santa, addressed to the North Pole?

"Unfortunately, I've already given Henry a gift." Mary Margaret's fingers clutched the edge of the table for support. Now Mr. Gold was buying Christmas presents for Henry? Was he having a life-changing epiphany like Scrooge in _A Christmas Carol? _

And then something resonated in her mind.

"The horse," she whispered, the dots connecting. It had taken her a bit to understand that Emma was downright serious about the horse in Regina's yard. She'd become a believer after David led Hershey down the main street of Storybrooke while dangling a carrot. "You were the one who left the horse in the Mayor's yard."

"Indeed, I am," he agreed, inclining his head. "But it doesn't seem to be good enough for Emma."

She couldn't help but notice how downtrodden he was, slumping forward on the stool. Maybe he really did want to please Emma. It was actually rather…sweet. _Ah, young love. Well, young-ish since he must be about…I mean….I am so glad he's not a mind-reader! _

"Henry did like the horse from what I heard. But the thing he really wants is his mother," Mary Margaret pointed out. They both knew she wasn't talking about Regina Mills. She never liked the way that woman treated Henry like a piece of property and not a child to be loved. "If you find a way to bring Emma and Henry together, then Emma will be happy, too."

It sounded near impossible, but it was the only gift Emma truly longed for, even if she never came right out and admitted it. It was in her eyes every time she met Henry after school or simply listened to him chatter about all the things that fascinated him while walking down the street. That easy-going, serene smile never existed anywhere else.

Mr. Gold's brow furrowed in thought.

"But I can't—" And it was then Mary Margaret witnessed the illuminated brilliance of hope being brought to life inside Mr. Gold's eyes. She smiled as he rose to his feet and gently touched her arm. "Thank you, dearie. You are…wonderful."

Before she could stop herself, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, a most motherly gesture of concern. Quickly, she drew away in realization, but a smirk danced on his lips.

"I'm sorry," she rushed to apologize before her curiosity reigned over her tongue. She studied him critically from head to toe—he certainly appeared very much like the Mr. Gold she knew. "Are you…are you feeling alright? You don't seem like yourself."

_Oh, what a dreadful thing to say,_ she berated herself. _As if anyone prefers him to be brooding and uninviting to every other living creature in Storybrooke. _To her endless surprise, he chuckled.

"I assure you, Miss Blanchard, I've never felt better. I know exactly what I shall give Emma for Christmas," he declared with eagerness. He gathered his cane with the intent of leaving, but paused once to gaze hungrily at the cookies. "May I?" He pointed to a chocolate chip one, the biggest on the plate conveniently.

"Help yourself," she encouraged.

_It just means I'll have to bake more, s_he thought tiredly. Mr. Gold took two; one for the road. She watched him limp to the door and did not know why she asked it. Maybe she felt sorry that he was so lonely in that little pink house of his. Little being the operative word.

"Mr. Gold?" His hand froze on the doorknob and he slowly pivoted around to meet her eyes questioningly. "Would you…like to join us…for Christmas Eve dinner?" Something shifted in his eyes and she suddenly wondered if he was offended by her show of sympathy. "It'll just be me, Emma, and Henry. That is, if you want…"

"Thank you…but I believe I've worn Emma out with my generosity. Perhaps next year," he answered. Part of her felt relieved because she somehow sensed that it might turn out to be an awkward Christmas Eve dinner unless they made merry over Christmas punch; the other part was filled with pity. Who else did he have to share Christmas Eve with?

"I figured you might want to spend it with Emma since you two are…I thought you might be….at the diner, under the mistletoe…"

All he did was return a blank stare. Slowly, the corners of his lips twisted upwards. And then Mr. Gold burst out laughing. Nearly doubling over at the waist and banging his fist against the wall. It sort of scared her.

"Wait…" He gasped through the gales of laughter. "You think Emma and I…are _dating?" _Mary Margaret felt heat rise to her neck and the apples of her cheeks. She suddenly felt exposed, as if he'd walked in on her naked. Not a pleasant thought.

"But…aren't you?" Another row of laughter gave her the answer. Whistling through his teeth, Mr. Gold regained his composure and used his handkerchief to dab the water from his eyes.

"Pleasant of you to think so, but Emma shall ultimately be the one to decide that," he said. Mary Margaret could have shriveled in her embarrassment. The clues had been there this week with Mr. Gold's unexplainable generosity toward Emma and then that admittedly intimate kiss…_You see what happens when you assume? _"Would you disapprove?"

The question jerked her back to reality, catching her off guard.

"What?" He rolled his eyes at her misunderstanding. His cane tapped on the floorboards as he swooped in on her, the leering snake once again. Gone were the lines of laughter that had moments ago marked his face.

"If Emma and I were, shall we say, two turtledoves…would you disapprove?"

Mary Margaret softly bit down on her lip and tried to imagine seeing Emma and Mr. Gold holding hands while walking down the street. It gave her the urge to giggle and that would most certainly be the wrong answer. He'd think she was finding it ridiculous, which it typically was.

"I would want Emma to be happy. As long as she's happy in her relationship, then so am I," she said truthfully.

Mr. Gold studied her for a tense moment and then he nodded. Taking a bite out of his cookie, he swept from the apartment and left her with the feeling that she'd just been visited by a ghost. As soon as the door closed, her knees buckled and she collapsed into a chair.

"Next I'll be baking a wedding cake."

…

_This is it! This is how I shall win this bet! Emma will have no choice but to reciprocate with a gift! _Gold practically danced up the walkway leading to his house, his mind lost in the perfect wrapping paper and ribbon for Emma's present. It would be priceless.

His feet halted when he spotted it sitting there on his porch. A small present, wrapped in gold and tied with a velvet green ribbon. For a moment, he blinked down at it and nudged it with the end of his cane as if expecting it to explode into a million pieces. If it was from Regina, there was a very good chance that would happen.

A present…for him. Did he dare hope?

No, it must be a mistake. It was meant for someone else in this pathetic, provincial town. That was right—it was somehow accidentally dropped on his step. No more, no less. Probably another special edition holiday Barbie for some little girl.

Gradually, he bent to retrieve it and scrambled for the tag attached to the ribbon. There in black and white: _To Gold. _He was the only Gold he knew, unless he flung it over the border. Curious, he shook the present next to his ear but could not make out what was inside.

And then he heard something—a tiny singing voice. What in gods was that about? Did she stuff Archie in there? Because that was not what he wanted for Christmas, having some little cricket popping up out of a box. Tucking it under his arm, he unlocked the front door and hurried inside the house.

There was a note taped to the bottom, but he pried it off and absently discarded it on the little table in the hall. Perhaps he should have taken the second or two to scan it, but he was like a child on Christmas Day. There was shiny gold paper and it demanded to be ripped open.

So that's precisely what he did.

His fingers tore at the wrapping paper, ripping it to shreds and spirals that inevitably landed on the floor. In his hands was a white box made for clothing. Ah, clothing. How…exciting. She could have at least been a little more original than that. Nevertheless, he wrestled the lid open to peer inside and he frowned.

Well, this was most unexpected.

Parting the white tissue paper, his eyes fell on a silk tie. It was only a few shades lighter than the ribbon that had tied the present. As he lifted it out of the box and turned it over in his fingers, he noticed that it wasn't any ordinary tie. It had a golden decoration of a Christmas tree on it and there was a round sticker at the bottom. _Press here. _

Well, why not?

His thumb pressed the indicated spot and suddenly there was a flash of golden light as the Christmas tree lit up all the way to the star. But that wasn't the end of it. Along the length of the tie flashed the words '_Fa-La-La-La-La' _with a chipper little voice singing along with it. His mind was numb when it was over. _A light-up tie. Of all the things she could give me, she got me a light-up tie. Well, it is a present, is it not? _

It was then he remembered the note he'd been too impatient to read. Limping over, he retrieved it and felt the blood run cold in his veins as he read it. And then he read it again. It only had a few words written on it.

_ Now that the bet is over, how about Christmas dinner? _

…..

_**Dun, dun, dun! Fear not—it's not over yet. I think the next chapter will be the last, though. I just wanted this to be a short, sweet little Golden Swan fic for Christmas this year. I'm glad so many people like it. **_

_**And now I must thank all those dearies out there that offered me such kind reviews: Sweetangelz18, BlooperLover, MissiB, louisethelibrarian, Fairy Demon26 (sorry for the confusion—I was counting Christmas Eve as one of the three days—his last and final day), 666Neme666, discotimelord, nuckythompson, GoldenDearie (Merry Xmas to you, too!), helikesitheymikey, ParanormalMoonlight, spankingfemfatale, DeenaTweety, Khiori, thedoctorsgirl42, and DaesGatling. **_


	5. Home For Christmas

_**A/N: Here it is, dearies. The end of my Golden Swan Christmas story. I hope you all enjoyed it and have a wonderful holiday! **_

It was rare for him to be struck with a genius idea, most likely due to the intense levels of alcohol always fogging his brain. But he had to admit, this one was in the top five of the best ideas he'd ever had.

Just reclining in a hospital bed, filling his belly with free food from the cafeteria and watching television. Granted, the food was a little stale and its origins were mysterious…and there was nothing on the television but old Christmas specials, but he liked to think he was skilled in looking at the bright side of things. It could be worse—he could be out there in the noisy hallway pushing a mop. And sure, his mouth was dry with the craving of liquor, but he was making a New Years' resolution to give it up, anyway.

But the simplicity of his days and a load of free time on his hands wasn't the best part.

It was when _she _walked in.

As beautiful as an angel she was, what with her hair all shiny under the fluorescent lights and a timid smile on her lips. And quite generous, too—she always had something new for him to make him smile. Last time it was a candy cane. Even her name was heavenly and he chanted it nonstop inside his head.

The nuns had taken it upon themselves to spread Christmas cheer throughout the hospital, visiting ill patients that would not be able to make it home for Christmas. They would bring cards that the children at the school made and occasionally one of the nuns would sit at someone's bedside and keep them company. She had offered to check on him and talked to him.

It was wonderful. He had never felt so giddy in his life. Why, if he hadn't been playing the role of a confused patient, he might just jump up and tap dance out the door.

And today she'd be coming back, since it was Christmas Eve. Wreaths were being pinned up on every patient's door and silver bells chimed musically in everyone's ears. Leroy was ready to leap over the bedrail when footsteps charged down the hallway.

Geez, they sounded a little heavy for a nun. Maybe it was the Christmas cookies they served the day before.

A flicker of movement blocked the doorway and he already had a cheerful, 1000-watt grin plastered on his face. It shattered like an ornament when Whale burst into the room instead. What a waste of muscle usage to smile so widely. And why was the doc staring at him so indignantly? _Oh, right. Caroling. Quick, Leroy. Think fast! _

"Uhm…_Oh, holy night, the stars are brightly shiiiining…" _Whale rolled his cold blue eyes and snapped his fingers impatiently at Leroy. How rude. _What am I? A dog or a patient? Just because I'm not a human of the opposite gender does not mean I shouldn't get respect! _

"Enough with the charade, Leroy. You've faked it long enough," the doctor haughtily reprimanded. Striding across the room, Whale purposefully shut off the television, which had been playing the classic _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. _ And Leroy had really wanted to see if Santa would deliver his presents.

"I was watching that, sister," he grumbled, pouting. And then Whale's words whiplashed his brain, catching up with him at an alarming rate. "Wait, you knew I was faking?"

Whale spread his arms widely as if relieved that Leroy had finally joined him on the right page.

"Please, Leroy. I am a highly-trained medical doctor. You may refer to my certificate. Yes, you had a concussion and some expected confusion, but you and I both know those symptoms disappeared a while ago. You've been fine for at least a day." Whale marched to the bedside table and studied the poinsettias as though they were some rare species being accounted in a lab. "Trust me; I've gone to extreme lengths myself to win a girl's affection."

That was it. The jig was up.

A light knock sounded at the door and both of them turned their heads to meet the soulful mocha eyes of the visitor in question. Leroy's heart skipped a beat—it was her. The beautiful nun that had been hopelessly stuck in his mind. Astrid. Ah, was that the sigh of angels he heard? His toes wiggled with excitement.

If there was a time to smile, this would be it. Okay, just…twitch the lips up a bit…he hoped he didn't look silly. He tried to look over at Whale for confirmation, but the doctor's face was turning an odd shade of red upon glancing at Leroy. Was the doc laughing?

"Sorry to bother you. I hope this isn't a bad time. The nuns are here to wish the patients a Merry Christmas. I was wondering…" She blushed a modest pink and it made her whole face glow. Pink was one of his new favorite colors. "I was wondering if you'd like a story?"

It came out as an uncertain question. She held up a thin book to prove that she had no ulterior motives. Whale opened his mouth to argue, but Leroy beat him to the punch.

"Come on in," he called out, earning a stern and roughly disapproving look from Whale. Leroy shrugged innocently and motioned his eyes to Astrid as if to say _sue me. _Astrid must have noticed the tension, for she paused instead of perching in a chair next to Leroy's bed.

"Sorry…is he being discharged?" She bit down on her lip and nearly tripped over the legs of the chair. If she had, she'd have landed on top of Leroy. He tried to ignore that mental image for the sake of his own emotions and stared at Whale, pressuring him.

"Gee, I don't know. Am I getting discharged…Frosty?"

Lines of sheer annoyance marred his face and he squinted at Leroy, whose expression remained neutral. Was that a hint of a gray hair he saw in the doc's blond hair? With a huff of breath, Whale decidedly turned his back to the beeping monitors and seemed to come to the conclusion that Leroy wasn't worth it.

"Due to the….severe state of his concussion, I'm afraid our good friend has been confined to bed rest here for the rest of the day. Perhaps tomorrow he'll make a miraculous recovery."

Whale adjusted the lapels of his white lab coat and leveled one last clinical look at Leroy before departing the room. Leroy chose to ignore the hint Whale had so conveniently been prodding him with. Astrid was all he cared to bestow his attention upon, even as she laid the book in her lap and frowned.

"But if you spend the evening here…you'll have no one to share Christmas Eve with," she pointed out solemnly. She appeared as unhappy about that as he felt. She reached out and touched his arm. _She's touching my arm. _"No one deserves to be alone on Christmas Eve."

Hope soared like a shooting star through Leroy until his fists were clenching up handfuls of the bed sheets. And her hand still lingered on his arm, a gentle warmth that inevitably stole the breath from his lungs. Who knew such a light touch could hold so much weight?

"Maybe…I could stop at the diner. Pick up something for the two of us to eat. Consider it a little Christmas Eve dinner?" How could he possibly say no when her eyes twinkled so brightly? So he smiled back and accepted her invitation as smoothly as he could. Later Whale told him that China could have heard his scream of 'yes'.

"So, what are we reading today?" Leroy gestured a finger to the book in her lap. She laughed shyly—he loved that sound—and held it up to allow him to read the title. "The Night Before Christmas." How festive.

"Yes, well…it is Christmastime and this story was always one of my favorites," she said, cracking open the book to the first brightly illustrated page. The letters were elaborately decorated in gold print. "That is, if you don't mind it?"

Leroy scoffed and waved a hand to dismiss her hesitance. He'd listen to her every word if she insisted on reading the dictionary.

"Read away," he granted permission.

Shifting in her chair to get comfortable, Astrid traced a delicate finger underneath the first line. Her lips parted, her tongue darting out quickly to lick them, and she began to read in a soft, soothing voice. It sounded like she was reading to a child, but he didn't mind one bit.

_"'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring; not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there…" _

Peacefully, Leroy settled his head back on the sterile white pillow and his eyelids fluttered closed as Astrid told him an enchanting tale. _Merry Christmas to me. _

…..

The diner was packed with people by the time he arrived there in the evening.

With customers rushing in and out, he waited until the coast was clear so as not to be caught under the mistletoe with an unwilling participant. Miss Ashley Boyd had been on her way out holding her bundle of joy and halted dead in her tracks to let him pass. Probably didn't want to risk running home to her prince and carrying the burden that she had kissed the man who had nearly taken their child.

Ruby was a whirlwind of crimson and jingling bells as she scurried about to fill orders. It took her at least five minutes after he seated himself at the bar to return, frantic and red-faced. Even though she was already worn, it didn't prevent the triumphant smirk on her lips.

"Well, well, well. Come to hear me gloat, old man?" He furrowed his brow and gently slipped his hand inside his suit to check for that silk green tie. Yes, the wretched thing was still there. He chose not to wear it, lest he become the joke of the New Year.

"I see no reason why you should. I won the bet," he proclaimed, setting his cane on the stool beside him. Ruby's sultry eyes burned with a passionate fire, her long eyelashes batting wildly.

"Not so sure about that," she protested, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. Oh, now they were to resort to arguing over who won? Such a sore loser, Ruby was. The proof lay right inside his suit. If he had to drag Emma down here to admit it, then he would.

"Yes, I did," he insisted through his teeth. "Our deal stated that I must convince Emma Swan to give me a present by today. It is today and I have been given a present." _I win, _he repeated in his head, if only for his ego and benefit. Ruby flicked her wrist, her nostrils flaring angrily.

"Where is this so-called present?" Clearly, she had her doubts. He frowned in disappointment.

"You need me to prove it?" Why couldn't she simply accept the truth and spare him the task of uncovering his little present? She rested her elbows on the bar and offered him a condescending stare.

"Right. I forgot you're the most honest guy in this diner," she sarcastically retorted. Grumbling—_I'll show you proof—_he reached into his suit. His finger must have accidentally hit the button since that little voice erupted into sing-song. Ruby eyed him warily. "I take it you succeeded in trapping your conscience in a jar?"

Oh, wasn't she an amusing one. Since it was Christmas Eve, he'd hold his tongue. But the day after Christmas, she'd be earning a lecture on her rash behavior.

Narrowing his eyes in warning, he removed the Christmas tie and laid it on the counter for Ruby to examine. Her fingers roved over it, tracing the light-up tree. She pressed the button again. _Fa-La-La-La-La…_

The laughter was bubbling; he could see it brighten her already flushed cheeks, her lips trembling in an effort to staunch it. It exploded like a volcano. Tears streamed down Ruby's cheeks and she clutched at her quivering sides. Every head turned to observe them, some staring at Ruby like she was senile for laughing in front of Gold.

"Oh…oh, that is priceless! Emma has an interesting taste in presents," she gasped. He flipped the tie over to avoid the light-up words.

"I win," he stubbornly persisted. Ruby caught her breath and touched a finger to her chin. She thought long and hard about her answer.

"I suppose I can let it slide," she relented.

Alarm made his muscles tense and swiftly his cane blocked her path as she started to drift away to serve others. She pushed his cane away and tilted her head questioningly. He should be ecstatic about winning, but something was off about her demeanor.

"You were never worried about sharing Christmas dinner with Dr. Hopper, were you?"

The pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that was Ruby's bet began to fit seamlessly together one by one, the thought that Ruby had deceived his earlier expectations driving his blood to a boil. Guilty as charged, Ruby simply shrugged and haughtily flipped her red-streaked hair over her shoulder.

"Not really," she admitted quietly. "The other day when I served his usual coffee, we talked a bit. Turns out he's a really sweet guy. I don't think I'll mind asking him to pass the butter."

Ruby winked and hurried off to fill orders for hungry, impatient patrons. His mind raced a million miles a minute. Ruby had agreed to this…why? Because of the rent? She didn't seem to lose sleep over it now. What was her goal? To give him a chance with Emma and establish courage enough to gain her attention? To try to stealthily get him to join the festivities?

Had she been…helping him?

His head snapped up as Ruby swiftly returned with an empty coffee pot. Setting it on the counter, she wiped her palms on her apron.

"How fares your Christmas shopping?" If he was wrong, then Ruby should be tumbling into despair any moment with the reminder of her empty pockets. A slew of fresh complaints should be brewing…

"Oh, I'm finished already," she proudly announced, flashing her white teeth. He was struck speechless in his puzzlement. "Yeah, see…I mentioned someone took a picture of Granny and Marco exchanging saliva under the mistletoe? What I meant was…." She knelt down behind the bar, vanishing from view. When she popped back up like a female Jack-in-the-Box, she was brandishing a camera. "_I _took the photo. I snapped one of you and Emma, too. Sold them to Sidney to use on the front page of his newspaper. Can you say _ch-ching?" _

Ruby fist-pumped in victory. It took him a moment to regain the use of his senses. Averting his gaze, he smoothed his hands over the front of his suit.

"Good," he replied shortly. "If you won, I would have had to lower your rent." Not that Ruby was aware of the loophole he'd discovered, just in case. She mocked him with a pout of her lips.

"It'd be a shame if we saved $100 each month," she taunted. A slow, devious smile slid across his lips as he realized he had been right—she was blissfully unaware of the power that would have still rested in his hands. She became unsettled by the ambiguity of his grin.

"You really should learn to be more specific, dearie," he berated her openly. The glee had fallen from her face; he devoured her nervousness. "I agreed to lower your rent. You failed to specify the amount. My generosity would have been exactly…one dollar."

"A dollar?!" Ruby's jaw dropped open and her face contorted with disbelief. It was made worse when it occurred to her that meaningful dollar would not be left in their pockets at the end of the month, due to Gold's victory. "But that's…that's…"

"Brilliant, I know," he appraised himself, pressing a hand to his heart. Ruby muttered something that sounded oddly like 'Scrooge.' The diner's bell chimed for the umpteenth time and up to the bar sauntered Leroy. _Bellying up to the bar for an early drink, _Gold mused.

Some days it seemed the curse would never splinter.

"Egg nog, please," Leroy ordered, placing a five dollar bill on the counter. "Keep the change." Ruby's head jolted up in shock. She stared at the town drunk suspiciously. Gold's mind was frazzled and he recounted over everything Emma had done recently. Had something honestly changed?

"I suppose you want it spiked?" She dug out a glass and glared at the variety of alcohol behind the bar. Leroy shook his head.

"No thanks, sister," he declined. The glass nearly crashed to the tiled floor as Leroy rejected alcohol. She sent a worried look in Gold's direction, who was equally perplexed. Her expression read _you're seeing this too, right? _

"He must have fallen off that roof harder than we thought. Maybe Whale shouldn't have discharged him." But still she acquiesced, pouring Leroy a simple glass of egg nog. She blanched when he downed it without protest, leaving behind a yellow mustache.

"Actually, Whale had agreed to keep me in the hospital, but I've been feeling better all morning. I'm helping the nuns read to children later on. And then I'm catching some dinner with a pretty lady," he explained.

Ruby was still as stone, as though Leroy had just babbled Gibberish. He met Gold's unfaltering calculating gaze and pointed to the Christmas tie still sitting on the bar.

"Nice tie."

…..

It was almost closing time.

One of the only customers left was Archie. He remained on a stool at the bar, reading the newspaper behind his glasses as he sipped some hot chocolate. His lip came away lined in whipped cream and Ruby couldn't help but smile.

Now…how to go about informing him that she would be his dinner partner? She hadn't really thought this out before launching the bet.

_Don't be silly, Ruby. Just go right up to him and say it. Hey, guess what? You don't have to eat alone this year or pester Gold because I shall be your dinner partner! No, that was ridiculous. Let's see…your place or mine? No, too blunt. Maybe…get him to ask?_

Ruby stomped a foot frustratingly on the ground and decided to charge over there and—

"Would you like some more hot chocolate? We have tiny marshmallows."_ Great. Wonderful way to start the upcoming question—remind him of the waitressing duties. _Ruby bit on the inside of her cheek. Glancing up, he covered the top of his mug with a hand.

"No thanks, Ruby. I think I'll be full of hot chocolate until New Years'," he joked and she smiled. Inside, she was frazzled to the bone. Now what? It'd be weird if she stayed here and waited for him to look up at her again. Maybe she should pretend to wipe up the counter…"Got something on your mind?" Too late.

Oh, God, he was looking up again, waiting patiently for an explanation as to why she was still standing here in front of him and wringing her hands along the seam of her apron. Foolishly, she smiled until her teeth showed and her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish. _Say something, you dummy! _

It came out all at once.

"Do you have anyone to share Christmas dinner with?" _Wow, that was incredibly loud and now people are staring. _Thankfully, the stares only came from the handful of customers that were heading out of the diner. The diner had swiftly emptied out and now it was just her and Archie. Ruby blushed as she anticipated his response.

"Well, yes, I do," he said, deflating her hopes.

Of course he had someone—why shouldn't he? He was probably going to finish up that hot chocolate and join her somewhere romantic. She wondered who the mystery girl was.

What would she tell Gold? Perhaps she'd be spending next Christmas with Archie…who was now gazing at her brightly and chuckling. Why was he chuckling?

"His name is Pongo," he informed her casually. Pongo? Oh, right. He'd been talking about his dog. "Would you like to join us? Though, I figured you'd be spending it with Granny." Ruby's heart had stopped palpitating as he'd so politely invited her along for dinner.

"I'm spending Christmas Day with Granny. Tonight, she's spending it out with Marco." Archie's eyebrows rose in surprise. Apparently, his friend hadn't yet told him of his hot date. He whistled lowly.

"That's good. So…dinner, then?" It was sort of cute how sheepish he was about accompanying Ruby.

She nodded and quickly finished her duties, leaving her red apron on the hook behind the bar. Together they started for the door and he held it open for her in a gentlemanly manner. A tingle of perception squiggled along Ruby's neck and she instinctively glanced up.

"Mistletoe," Archie pointed out, as amazed as she was. How could she have forgotten? Thank God no one was left to take a picture. Nervously, she buried her hands in her pockets and stared at the decoration. Oh, how the tables turned.

"We don't have to…if you're not comfortable with it," she said, trying to let him off the hook. Instead, he shrugged loosely and she realized how close their bodies were on the threshold. Barely a foot of space in between.

"I hear it's a law in December," he said. "Unless you don't want to…?" He was leaving the option up to her.

Tentatively, Ruby licked her lips. It was her move. Gently, she placed her hands on Archie's sweater vest and leaned forward. Never did he skitter away or pressure her to quicken her movements. As softly as two snowflakes, their lips met in a small but sweet kiss. His hands came up to rest on her arms and she smiled into the kiss.

After it broke, Archie's face grew red and his eyes were wide as saucers.

"Wow," he whispered in awe. Clearing his throat, he offered his arm to Ruby and she entwined hers through it. Into the snow they ventured, somehow discussing their favorite carols while their bellies craved the warmth of a Christmas feast.

…

On Christmas Day, Gold rushed around his house in a mad frenzy in preparation for Emma. It could have been the President for all his hard work. She was coming by that evening for dinner and he wanted everything to be in order. Not a hair out of place. He'd even bucked up the discomfort of his leg to clear out that living room of its clutter. He'd feel it tomorrow, but somehow he would manage.

Or perhaps Emma could massage it. That was a pleasing thought. _Head out of gutter, head out of gutter, _he reprimanded his fantasies. He couldn't afford to think like that around Emma, not tonight.

In town, he'd purchased a shabby Christmas tree and placed it in the corner of the living room. It had come as a shock to Mr. Clark to have him nearly buying out his Christmas products. In the kitchen, he had baked for the better part of the day and made sure the fridge was stocked with egg nog.

Did Emma like egg nog? Or should he simply stick with hot cocoa?

Decisions, decisions.

Speaking of decisions, the worst of it came down to his suit selection. Should he wear a red dress shirt or a white one? Which would be more festive? Or perhaps that dark green one? It almost matched the shade of Emma's present. Not that he was planning on wearing that tie.

Or should he? Would it please her or would it offer her a chance to mock him? But if he didn't wear the tie, she might assume he didn't appreciate his gift and then she'd regret allowing him to win the bet. And she'd probably make his life a living hell for the next week, as women's fury does upon being scorned.

Why must his nerves be a bloody wreck? Women never irked him this much. Then again, usually the women were the uncomfortable ones and he'd been in the habit of stalking around them like a vulture while teasing their bodies with his touch. For some reason, he knew the only thing that would get him from Emma was a trip to the ER.

Gazing into the mirror in the bathroom, he rubbed a hand across his jaw. He had made sure to shave extra carefully this morning and added a spritz of cologne to his suit. He ran a hand through the feathery strands of his dusty brown hair and suddenly despised the tell-tale streaks of gray threaded through here and there.

This land was more a burden to him than a blessing. A curse, indeed.

From downstairs came the daunting sound of the doorbell and his eyes snapped to the clock in the hall. Gods, she was early. Didn't she know that it wasn't necessarily a crime to be fashionably late?

He had tried on the Christmas tie over his dark green dress shirt and grumbled at his reflection. It was too late to change it now, lest he keep Emma waiting. The doorbell rang again as he descended the stairs as rapidly as he could without tumbling down. _I'm coming, Emma, I'm coming. Remember, I'm not as young as I used to be. _

And the last time he had truly felt young was centuries ago. How depressing.

Hesitating with his hand on the doorknob, he checked his reflection in the hall mirror one last time before opening the door. Perhaps he should invest in a mirror with an electronic voice that was made to compliment his looks, even when he was having a bad hair day. _Oh, yes, you are the best looking man in all the land. On a scale of one to ten, you are a twenty. Oh, yes…_

_ Oh, yes, you are gorgeous. _

It was a good thing he had held expectations for Emma. Otherwise, his jaw might have hit the porch. Even so, it was impossible to keep from drinking her in.

Clad in a velvet green dress, she was stunning in every right. The dress wasn't so short or skin tight that it teased his imagination and he realized with some thrill that they wore matching colors. It was as though they'd agreed to coordinate. _Great minds think alike, right? _

The locks of her golden hair was sprinkled with snowflakes and tied back, exposing the natural beauty of her face, hard-edged though it was. In his mind, her strength and fierceness only added to her appeal.

"Are you going to gape at me all night or am I fated to become Frosty's wife?" And she had a sharp tongue. But of course he'd already been acquainted with that in the diner. _Gutter, gutter, gutter. _Ooh, that warmth was seeping through his body.

"Of course not. Come in," he invited, stepping aside to allow her entry. Lightly, her body brushed against the clothing of his suit as she entered his house. His territory. In her hands was a cellophane-wrapped plate of cookies, which she held out in offering.

"From Mary Margaret. I suppose she didn't want you to feel left out if she baked for everyone else." With one hand he accepted the tray while the other gripped his cane. It was then that she noticed his attire, her expression becoming thoughtful.

"You're wearing my tie," she pointed out smugly. He glanced down at the silly Christmas tie with its silly light-up detail and prayed the button didn't malfunction and start singing nonstop.

"You're wearing my…" He studied her from the crown of her head to the heels on her feet. She waited with her hands nestled on her hips. "Well, you're not wearing anything of mine yet. With time, that might change." _Oh, I am drowning in the gutter, now. I wonder how good she would look in one of my shirts. _

Regrettably, a slight grimace marred her face. She was giving him that odd, wary look that mothers gave the creepy guys on the streets while passing with their children. Why did these quips slip so smoothly off his tongue? He hung his head.

"Forgive me. Old habits die hard, even around Christmas," he apologized.

"You share your clothing with all the women in Storybrooke?" Okay, he deserved that barb. He was afraid to lift his eyes and check her expression. Was she upset by his bold behavior? Would she change her mind and storm out? "I should have known that generosity could only last so long."

He winced. Two seconds and he already messed up. Did it disappoint her that his generosity had an ulterior motive, as did everything else established by him in this town?

"Gold." The demanding sound of his name on her lips commanded him to meet her stern eyes and…she didn't look upset. She looked rather self-assured, as if a theory of hers had been ultimately proven correct. She was still here, after all. That had to count for something.

"I'll just drop these off in the kitchen," he murmured, nodding to the cookie tray. Awkwardly, he craned his neck to the living room behind her. He was so glad he had cleaned it—now a table had been set up by the fireplace for dinner, with a fire already roaring. "Please…make yourself at home."

He didn't know if Emma was pleased by that concept as he hurried off toward the kitchen. Her heels steadily clicked across the hardwood floor as she wandered and he was thankful for that. Coupled with the tap of his cane, they unknowingly formed a unique heartbeat: _click-thump, click-thump, click-thump. _

His nerves were shot to hell and he found himself taking slow, deep breaths. _You can do this. It's just Christmas dinner. _

Once in the kitchen, he laid the tray of cookies on the island in the middle and went about gathering their dinner. He had arranged it earlier in the day on a silver tray to make it easier to carry into the living room.

Placing it on a little cart, he rolled it into the living room and presented the food on the table. Uncovering the tray, even his stomach growled insistently as he eyed the turkey and rolls surrounding it. He breathed in the aroma, only to realize that Emma's focus was directed toward the tree.

"Most people usually enjoy trimming a tree," she commented and nudged the plastic bag of garland and ornaments he had bought in town. One thousand times he had wondered if he should just trim the tree himself, especially since it was Christmas Day, but…

"I was hoping you might assist me," he hinted, taking her by surprise.

Stealthily, he swept up behind her and resisted the urge to make contact with her body. He observed the way she studied the tree with deep concentration, creating a battle plan. Then, she bent to retrieve the white bag. And, damn it, if his eyes didn't travel downwards while she was bent over.

"Okay, let's do it," she relented, ignoring the steaming food on the table. Abruptly, his eyes snapped up and his mind struggled to return to the matter at hand.

"What?" She glanced over her shoulder impatiently and straightened with the white bag hooked over her elbow. She shook the bag, the contents rustling inside.

"Let's trim the tree," she repeated. Oh, right. The decorating.

He frowned, not expecting her quick compliance. One by one, Emma thrust her hand into the plastic bag and unpacked the ornaments and strung out the garland. Now he wondered if he should have gotten that little Rudolph the Reindeer collectables set. Supposedly, Rudolph's nose really glowed.

"Now?" She sighed and raised an eyebrow, obviously inquiring about his hesitance.

"No, I figured we should wait until next Christmas," she retorted. There was that Emma he knew and appreciated. Always good to be in her company. Decidedly, he replaced the cover on the tray to keep the food warm. "The only times I ever decorated a tree was in the system and those were about as puny as Charlie Browns'."

He paused in reaching for one end of the gold garland.

"You've never had a full-sized Christmas tree?" She played with the hook of a shiny silver ornament and her lips pinched in a displeased frown. He would take that as a 'no.' "Neither have I."

Something in his voice—perhaps she would chalk it up to loneliness—struck a chord inside her and her head rose, her green eyes glittering as she swallowed this new piece of Gold knowledge. Not much of it ever traveled around. Skillfully, he began to drape the garland about the branches, fixing it here and there so that it wrapped around perfectly.

"Shouldn't there be music when we do this?' Emma tilted her head as though to listen for the first cue of notes.

Music. Why hadn't he thought of that? Luckily, he'd been avidly doing research on this world ever since awakening and that included becoming familiar with these so-called Christmas carols. So, he switched on a CD of soft Christmas music to play in the background. It seemed to relax Emma a bit.

"Does this count as my favor?" He smirked while picking up a silver ornament that was a twin to the one Emma chose.

"Not even close, dearie," he dashed her hopes. Instead of protesting, she concentrated on placing her first ornament in the center of the tree. She stepped back and gave him a small, knowing smile.

"Didn't think so." She'd only been hoping.

Even if she detested the notion of being the savior, it was inevitably ingrained in her every action and aspiration, even now. It fascinated him to no end that someone who had endured a rough life still understood the necessity of hope.

Together they finished decorating the tree with baubles of red, silver, and gold while the music filled their ears. Backing up, he gave it a long critical look and decided he liked it. Judging from the proud smile on Emma's lips, she felt the same way.

"And lastly…the star. Care to do the honors?" Delicately he handed her the golden bulb-encrusted star for the top of the tree. It'd be a miracle if the pathetic thing lit up. Leaning forward on her tip-toes, Emma stretched her arms above her head and guided the star onto the top.

The temptation was too much to resist as he leisurely studied the bare skin of her arms and the lean muscles rippling underneath. Ever so softly, he placed a hand on the small of her back and cursed the velvet green dress. Immediately, every muscle in her body tensed as the star lightly settled into place.

Dropping her arms to her sides, she inched away and he reluctantly removed his hand, cold now without her warmth.

The CD switched tracks to a softer piece of music and Emma's head tilted to listen. _I'll be home for Christmas….you can count on me…_

Peacefully, her eyelids drifted closed and she seemed to be recalling a memory. He wondered which one. The tension eased out of her muscles.

"This song is one of my favorites," she admitted, her body swaying slightly with the gentle music.

Perhaps it was that admission that gave him the will and courage to do it, but suddenly he was holding out his hand to her. She stared suspiciously at it and then met his eyes—she could read him so well, better than she knew. A flash of amusement illuminated her green irises.

"Thought you couldn't dance with that leg," she teased, gesturing to his bad one. Leaning his cane against one of the chairs, he kept his hand waiting in front of her. Hesitantly, she placed her hand atop his and he clasped it, urging her closer.

"I never said that. You'd be surprised what a man like me can accomplish when he sets his mind to it," he replied, pulling her into his embrace.

Emma readjusted herself until her hands flew to the only place they reasonably could: around his neck. It reminded him of their little kiss and he grinned down at her. Resting his hands comfortably on her hips, they began to move together in time with the song.

Emma never quit watching him as they danced, but he didn't mind it. He could have drowned in her eyes what with the intensity that he was laying on. With time, Emma's arms loosened and stretched further, her palms pressed to his back. Just for good measure, he gently squeezed her hips and she bit down on her lip. Probably to keep in the gasp of pleasure.

_I'll be home for Christmas…if only in my dreams…_

Daringly, he caught her arms and twirled her out across the floor just as the last few notes of the song hit. Reeling her back into his arms, their faces were only inches apart and her hand was gripping his arm as it wrapped around her body to hold her. Both of them were breathing roughly, more from the proximity than the dancing.

"Emma," her name lilted on his tongue, but she didn't look away. It was like she was waiting, anticipating his next move. Fingers brushing along her chin, he gently raised it until their lips were a breath apart. And she wasn't shying away. So he bent his head forward and licked his lips once, convinced he could already taste that lovely cinnamon—

_Fa-La-La-La-La…_

That abysmal tie. That foolish, no-good, ridiculous tie that was rapidly becoming the bane of his existence.

The spell broke and his hold weakened as Emma slipped from his arms. She smoothed her hands along her dress and he noticed a strand of her golden hair had come undone, drifting down in front of her eyes. The music started up again with another song, but the dancing was done.

"Our food will be getting cold," he murmured. _Among other things. _

…..

Despite his fears, the dinner was not a disaster. For the most part, they ate in silence and it was hard to tell if Emma was impressed with his cooking. She did have seconds of everything, though. With their bellies full, they lounged back in their seats to hopefully digest enough for dessert.

"I have to admit, you're a pretty decent cook," Emma finally remarked, patting her belly. _Score, _he thought gleefully. He busied his hands with dabbing at his lips with a napkin.

"According to Miss Blanchard, that's all one needs to live with you," he blurted out before his brain could comprehend its meaning.

Emma dropped her gaze and clasped her hands in her lap. There he went again. It'd been a long time since he had been on a date or personally entertained a woman. _It's this idiotic tie, I know it. If only Fa-La-La-La-La could work for every response. _

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be moving my stuff in here anytime soon," she muttered. He wiped a hand across his brow and was surprised when it came away dry. For all his anxiety, he was certain he'd be sweating bullets. _Think fast. Do something right. _

"I haven't given you your gift," he said as he rose from his chair and found it underneath the Christmas tree.

It was wrapped in bright red paper and tied with a gold ribbon—the hues that he associated with her name every day. When she saw it in his hands, her face glowed with wonder, the same child-like expression he wore upon tearing into his gift.

"How generous of you," she said dryly as he offered it to her. The minute the gift was transferred to her care, it was a goner. And he thought he made a mess with the paper. When the gift was safely uncovered and sitting in her lap, she was oddly silent. Had he made another mistake? "Walkie-talkies? Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't parents usually give these to…children?"

"Precisely," he commended her. She stopped turning them in her hands and stared up at him skeptically. "Woman, you gave me a light-up musical tie! Honestly, which one of us really looks better?"

Emma's eyes dropped to the tie and then to the walkie-talkies. He pointed to them over her shoulder.

"These were in Graham's possession before he…passed. These are for you and Henry. A way to communicate with your boy, regardless of Regina's disapproval. No matter what Regina does…if he ever needs or wants you, he'll only have to call out. Vice versa. It's a way for you to be with him. Always."

Emma's hands trembled as she gathered up the walkie-talkies and gazed at the devices with a whole new meaning. Her resolve crumbled and she smiled gratefully at Gold. Mary Margaret had told him that the only thing she wanted was to make Henry happy and this was the way to do it.

"Thank you," she whispered, juggling the walkie-talkies enough to stand up by his side. "This is probably…one of the best gifts anyone has ever given me. Don't tell Mary Margaret I said that—every time I tried on that new leather jacket, she smiled bigger than the Joker."

She cradled the walkie-talkies to her chest and he had no doubt she was already imagining the bright smile on Henry's face when she presented the gifts. Softly, he brushed the loose strand of golden hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She was too enthralled with the gift to notice.

"You are welcome….Emma."

….

After a cup or two of hot cocoa apiece and intense sharing of the delicious cookies Mary Margaret baked, it was getting late into the evening. The snow had started falling again outside and only the glow of the streetlamps illuminated the winter wonderland of Storybrooke. The clock struck nine as Emma drifted to the hall, intending to leave.

He hadn't yet gotten the courage to ask her the most trivial question that had played across his mind since reading her note.

"When did you learn about the bet?" There it was; the heart of the matter. The reason why she was standing in his house and sharing his Christmas dinner. If he had never agreed to that bet, he'd be spending his time alone. Gradually, she pivoted toward him and gave him a look that suggested she'd been waiting for him to ask.

"After we kissed in the diner. Regina heard about it and she already suspected you sent the horse since you're the only person besides me daring enough to dig under Regina's skin. So she interrogated Ruby about what was going on between us and Ruby spilled about the bet. She told Regina and Regina told me," she explained. It struck him as peculiar that she wasn't upset about his ulterior motives. She shrugged. "Guess she thought I'd dislike you more for it."

"But…" He urged her forward.

"But…I can't fault someone whose only purpose in this bet is to receive a Christmas present. I figured you might be lonely and in need of some Christmas spirit. And as the potential Sheriff in charge of the citizens' well-being, it wouldn't be proper of me to allow someone to spend Christmas alone."

Any moment now and he just might gather up enough courage to ask her to marry him. Alright, maybe he wasn't that entranced with her yet, but she did leave his mouth without words. But it wasn't the same for her. She didn't feel entranced by him, merely…simply…

"Is that all? You felt sorry for me?" His tone was harsher than he meant it. He didn't ask or want her sympathy. But still she smiled.

"It was nice seeing you act like a human being for once." Act like a human being? Is that what he'd been doing these past few days? Swiftly, he approached her until their bodies were only a foot or so apart.

"Admit it, dearie. I am a good kisser," he taunted her. She didn't back away from the warmth of his body nor did she draw closer in step. Her gaze flickered to his lips and he had to fight the urge to allow his tongue to flick out across his upper lip. She smirked.

"Not bad," she mused. His heartbeat picked up in pace. He cupped a hand to his ear and leaned down.

"What was that?" She gave a short laugh and he decided it was ten times lovelier than the Christmas music playing in the background. He could have listened to it all night, if only he knew how to encourage it. She rolled her eyes.

"You heard me," she said, unwilling to repeat those words. He lifted an eyebrow and his hands seemed to take on a life of their own as they traced the line of her jaw. Her breath quickened and she stared at his hand, which lingered against her skin.

"No, what I heard sounded more like a challenge. And I never reject a challenge…anymore," he warned, his hand cupping her chin. His arm wrapped deftly around her waist to pull her in and his head bent with the intention of finishing what they had started during their little dance. But her hands flew up to press against his chest.

"Wait." No, he didn't want this moment to end. She was going to pull away, wasn't she?

But Emma Swan had a way of surprising him time and again, even when he was so certain he could predict her every thought. Her hands reached up to that Christmas tie and undid it, tossing it away so as not to interfere again. Then she waited. His move.

Catching her chin again, his lips took advantage of her acquiescence and collided with hers, capturing them in a long-awaited kiss. It was blissful now that there wasn't a crowd of townsfolk observing their intimate moment. Quicker than inside the diner, her lips began to respond in motion with his. His fingers entwined in the silky strands of her hair and he wrestled the band out. He always did enjoy her with her hair down and wild about her shoulders. And that cinnamon…oh, that teasing hint of cinnamon.

Gently, Emma's hands applied pressure to his chest and he knew their kiss was nearly at its end. His lips stubbornly hung onto hers, absorbing the last precious seconds before they parted and released her. Eyes clouded with lust, she matched his gaze and ran her hands along his arms before stepping back.

"Merry Christmas, Gold." As a last token of gratitude, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. The kiss was longer than was deemed appropriate, the tip of his tongue delving out to taste her skin.

"Merry Christmas, Emma." He escorted her to the door and held it open for her as she ventured into the whirlwind of snow and frost. He watched as she got into her Bug and drove away, watched until her taillights vanished in the shadows and snowfall.

When he closed the door and took note of his empty house, there was a confident smile in place.

He couldn't wait until New Years'.

…

_**The End. **_

_**So many of you to thank and it makes me smile so much to know that there are plenty of people who enjoyed this little story. A plate of Christmas cookies goes to sbcarri, DaesGatling, PsychoticQueen, ParanormalMoonlight, Roza, MissiB, helikesitheymikey, 666Neme666, BlooperLover, discotimelord, Sweetangelz18, nuckythompson, spankingfemfatale, thedoctorsgirl42, and beverlie4055. **_

_**A Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night! **_


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